


Between Heaven and the Abyss

by Wintryone



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, F/M, Family, Mythology - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 00:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 86,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintryone/pseuds/Wintryone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Melody and Farrell Hawke, a spinoff from The Misadventures of Mari Hawke. A coming of age story for the twins, and the continuing love story between Hawke & Fenris. Everyone knows the twins are special, but not just to the mortals who inhabit Thedas. The Dread Wolf visits their dreams, and they learn of the prophecy of the Hawke & the Wolf. Full DA2 caste, plus OC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N Here is the story of Hawke and Fenris' twins, Melody and Farrell.
> 
> Everything but the twins are the property of Bioware
> 
> And so, we begin…

 

**INTRODUCTION**

The story of the Champion of Kirkwall is well-known, but for those of you who've had your head in a bucket, or were off somewhere in the Korcari Wilds and have never heard of Mari Hawke, I've been asked to set down a few words of introduction.

My name is Varric Tethras - businessman, storyteller and surrogate uncle to the twins, which I suppose uniquely qualifies me for this task.

So here it is, short and sweet (well, maybe not sweet, hehe).

Marian (Mari) Hawke escaped the Blight in Ferelden with her mother, Leandra Amell, and her sister Bethany. From the first day I met them my life was forever changed. If you want the full story of our adventures, seek out a book called "The Misadventures of Mari Hawke," unless you're a lazy nug-humper, that is. An anonymous author wrote it with a little help from yours truly.

The most relevant part of Hawke's story is, of course, that she fell in love with Fenris: An elf and an ex-slave who'd been branded with lyrium tattoos by his former master, and who was the most broody son-of-a-bitch I'd ever met – never mind that he had good reason.

For over six long years Hawke stood by him as he struggled to put his life as a slave behind him. In the end, Hawke's true heart won out, and her fierce warrior elf has been by her side ever since.

After we escaped the trouble in Kirkwall (you must have heard of that!) and came to Starkhaven to aid Prince Sebastian Vael in reclaiming his throne, Hawke and Fenris were married and a few months later (eh-em) the twins were born: Melody and Farrell Hawke. Yeah, I know kids usually take their father's name, but Fenris didn't have one to give. It would be funny except that it isn't.

Almost from the first those babies showed signs of being extraordinary. Melody (my sweet little Sparrow) with her beautiful voice and her mother's smile. Farrell, as serious and somber as his father ever was, but deft of hand and quick of mind. The boy could speak in full sentences and taught himself to play the lute before he was three! He is also the only other person in all of Thedas who is allowed to touch Bianca, hehe. Melody can not only sing to make the gods jealous (as our friend Zevran would say), but also had the uncanny ability of attracting all manner of creatures to her – birds, animals, butterflies – you name it and they all wanted to be near my little Sparrow. Who wouldn't?

For a few years the Hawke family traveled all over Thedas, always coming home to Starkhaven where her sister, Princess Sunshine, was married to Sebastian with a son of her own (and as this story begins, another on the way). Turns out Malcolm Sebastian Vael is a Mage, but so far the twin's only magic has been through their song. It was a song that I helped them write that was the game-changer – a song about Hawke and Fenris. That night, after they performed it, the twins dreamt of the Dread Wolfe. You should have seen Hawke and Fenris after that! Needless to say the next day word was sent out to all of our friends from our days in Kirkwall. The twins needed training and protecting, of course.

That's where this story begins. You want more details – there's that book I mentioned. Hehe.

One more thing. Anonymous author has asked if I'd help now and then to fill out the corners of the twin's story. Of course I will. It's what I do. Other than Hawke and her family, stories are my favorite thing.

 

**CHAPTER ONE**

"My arm hurts," Melody sang. Whenever she was upset or excited, she sang her words as if they were set to music. She bit her lip, a reminder to use her normal speaking voice, and added, "And I'm hungry."

Sebastian chuckled. "Your arm will only grow strong with practice," he said, "and practice you will until your aunt calls us to lunch."

Melody sighed and pulled the bowstring back the way Uncle Sebastian had shown her, sighting along her other arm as she aimed at the target. She released the arrow and this time she at least hit the hay bale, if not the bull's-eye affixed to it.

"You're improving already," said Sebastian as he handed her another arrow. "Yet the true skill of the archer is to  _be_  the arrow as it flies from the bow."

"Be the arrow?" asked Melody. Uncle Sebastian confused her sometimes.

"Yes," he said gently and came to stand behind her. He set his hands on both of hers as they held the bow and arrow. "Quiet your mind, Melody," he said. "Focus on the center of the target. The arrow wants to hit there, you only need get out of the way with your effort."

Even though her uncle made very little sense, she did as he asked. Together they carefully notched the arrow. "You are the arrow," he said, "flying through the air, free to find your mark."

Her uncle's soft words calmed her and she set her eyes on the black-ringed target. Together their hands pulled the bowstring taught and she imagined herself long and slim; flexible with her sharp tip guiding herself home. When at last they released the arrow, she felt a thrill run through her as she sometimes did when singing a particularly high note.

The arrow flew through the air and pierced the center of the bull's-eye with a sharp thunk.

"We did it!" she exclaimed and dropped the bow to hug her uncle.

He chuckled and lifted her into the air. "A fine show of marksmanship," he said as he spun her around.

"Well, well, well," came a saucy voice from the entrance to the garden where they practiced. "Little Sparrow learns to fly."

"Auntie Bela!" Melody sang and wriggled from Sebastian arms to race across the grassy lawn. Within moments she was in a tight hug, as she rained kisses over Isabela's cheek.

"Auntie Bela," she said again. "You're here!"

"Of course I am, sweet thing," Isabela purred in her ear. "My favorite little rogue needs me, where else would I be?"

Melody colored and whispered in Bela's ear, "Shhh, they don't know."

Isabela's laughter filled the garden. "What? That you can pick locks?" she said and laughed again. "I think they'll be glad for it, kitten."

"Where's Pardus?" asked Melody, searching behind Bela for a sight of him.

"He's with the others in the kitchen," she replied. "I've been sent to bring you both to lunch."

Sebastian had gathered their equipment and approached them now. "Good to see you, Isabela," he said and gave her a little bow.

"Why Prince Vael," she replied in mock formality and managed to curtsy while still holding onto Melody, "the pleasure is mine."

Melody giggled as together they headed into the palace.

 

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

It had been nearly a month since the night the twins had dreamt of the Dread Wolf, and their training had begun in earnest. With the arrival of Isabela and Pardus earlier in the week, the only person she'd not yet heard from was Merrill. Hawke was hoping for word soon, but the traveling life of her Dalish clan made correspondence difficult. They had also received a letter from Fenris' sister Varania, now an Enchanter at the Circle of Magi in Hossberg. She'd written with promises of as much support as she could give from so far away. She also planned to research the Circle's records on the Dalish gods and what she could find about the fall of Arlathan and the wars with Tevinter and the Chantry. All of that was supposedly because Fen'Harel had tricked the Elvhen gods back into heaven, away from their wars with the Forgotten Ones, also tricked back into the Abyss. Since that time, the Elvhen people had been reduced to meager lives of hopelessness and despair.

Hawke sighed. She never thought she'd need to become an authority on Elvhen legends. She twirled the ring on her finger, the Dalish ring passed down to Fenris from his long-dead father.  _Together we are stronger than one_ , she thought.  _Do not waiver. Bend, but never break._ Powerful words whether you were an elf or not.

There was one more person on her mind this night as she waited for Fenris to put the children to bed and join her.

Anders.

It had been over a decade since they'd had any word from him. Ten long years, and she doubted he yet lived. It filled her heart with sadness, because even though she'd never had an easy relationship with the possessed Mage, he had saved all their lives times beyond counting. He'd been a good man with a troubled heart. She often wondered what he would have been like if he'd not joined with the Spirit of Justice. From what he'd told her he'd been an irresponsible, carefree youth before taking the spirit into him and setting his path to free every Mage in Thedas from the tyranny of the Chantry and its Circle. If only he could have seen what Bethany had accomplished in Starkhaven. He would be proud of her, Hawke was sure.

The bedroom door opened and Fenris slipped inside. She banished thoughts of Anders from her mind and opened her arms to her husband.

"How are they?" she asked him.

"Tired," he replied as he wrapped his arms around her. "They were both asleep before I left the room."

"I worry that we work them too hard," she said, laying her head on his shoulder. "They are so young."

"And yet needs must," he replied. "You would not have them defenseless in the face of such a threat."

She lifted her head and held his gaze. "We don't even know what the threat really is," she said. "What if it were just a random dream? It has not been repeated."

Fenris lifted a hand to her cheek. "Would you risk their lives on a 'what if?'" he asked.

Hawke sighed. "No. No, I wouldn't," she said. "And they are doing well."

"Yes, they are," he replied and smiled at her. "I have discovered what Farrell and Varric are doing locked away in the weapon's shop at the barracks."

Hawke smiled back at him. "I've been wondering, but they only smirk when I've asked them."

Fenris chuckled. "Apparently they are designing a crossbow for Farrell."

Hawke's brow lifted. "What? Bianca number two?" she asked with a laugh.

"They are both very serious about it," replied Fenris.

“Varric,serious?" Hawke said, laughing still. "I never thought I'd see the day."

Fenris' hand began to wander down the length of her back, sending shivers of delight across her skin. "That dwarf is very dedicated to our children," he said.

"They all are, everyone of of them," Hawke replied softly. "Melody and Farrell are going to be okay, aren't they?"

"We shall make sure of it," he told her with conviction.

"What is that you're doing with your hands?" she asked.

Fenris smiled crookedly. "Don't you like it?" he asked.

"Mmm," she murmured. "Just a little bit lower…"

"Like this?" he asked playfully.

Hawke's answer was lost as he captured her mouth with his.

 

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Fenris looked at everyone gathered around the long table – gathered in support of his children – his family. No matter how much time passed, he was continually surprised by these things. Surprised that he had a family to love and care for. Surprised that he had friends that he could trust. His gaze rested on his wife, who sat next to him chatting with Isabela as the pirate-turned-merchant admitted that she'd taught Melody the beginnings of lock-picking on their visit to Ostwick last summer. Hawke's laughter filled the room and he did not attempt to hide the wide grin that formed on his face. Despite the seriousness of this meeting, Hawke's laughter lifted his heart and he felt a new surge of confidence that they would meet this new challenge – together.

As if his thoughts called to her, and he often believed that they did, she turned to him, the laughter still on her lips. Her dark eyes softened as her gaze swept his face, then she turned to the others and lifted a sheet of parchment from the table.

"I've received word from Merrill," she announced to the room, and all eyes turned to her.

There was Varric, of course, as well as Bethany and Sebastian, Isabela and Pardus, and at the end of the table, Aveline and Donnic.

"Read it out loud, sweet thing," said Isabela with a wink.

Hawke did.

_Lethallan,_

_I write in haste, as we are too close to Orlais where much trouble is brewing. I am afraid I can come no nearer to you than just east of Cumberland on the edge of the Planasene Forest, where we will winter the halla this year. We will arrive before the end of Harvestmere._

_I do suggest that you come if you can. There is much that the clan can teach the twins, and much that I would discuss with you about their dream._

_I miss you so, Lethallan. Once you make your plans, send word to Ash'arell at the Cumberland alienage. I will do what I can for Melody and Farrell, in whatever way possible._

_Dareth shiral,_

_Merrill_

Hawke had barely finished the last word when Varric chimed in. "So what? Now we all traipse off to the forest in search of Daisy? I heard that place is filled with demon trees."

"Demon trees?" asked Isabela.

"Yeah, trees with demons inside them," Varric replied. "I was hoping to live my whole life and not see one of those."

"They're called Sylvans," said Bethany. "And not all of them are evil."

"Why am I not surprised that demons would inhabit trees, as well," said Fenris rhetorically.

"I don't get it," said Hawke. "I thought the host had to agree to a demon's deal before they could be possessed."

"Poor trees," said Bethany, "they don't truly have a mind to resist the demons."

"You mean these demons rape the trees?" asked Isabela in a horrified tone.

"I believe we are getting off track," offered Fenris.

"Agreed," said Aveline. "Do you intend to make the journey, Hawke?"

"Let's say we are entertaining the possibility," she replied. "We'd like some input."

Even in gatherings like this, where everyone still looked to Hawke as the person in charge, she never referred to herself as such. Fenris continued to believe this is exactly what made her such a capable leader.

"Sister…" Bethany began, but Hawke interrupted her.

"There's no question, Bethany. You are not coming," said Hawke.

Bethany ducked her head and smiled. "I know," she said. "But I wish you could have a healer with you, even if it's not me."

"Perhaps it would be best if we first decide if we are going at all, before choosing who will make the journey," said Fenris.

Hawke said, "I believe Merrill may be able to help the twins more than anyone." She paused and her gaze fell on Fenris.

"And yet there is her past filled with blood magic and demons," Fenris said, and could not help some of the bitterness that crept into his voice.

Hawke sighed. "Yes. The last we saw her she'd given it all up, but…"

"It is Melody and Farrell we put at risk if she did not," he finished for her.

"Why would Daisy lie, Hawke?" asked Varric.

Fenris bit down the sarcastic words that formed in his mind out of deference to Bethany, but he thought them nonetheless:  _Yes, why would a Mage lie?_

Hawke said, "That's what it all comes down to, isn't it? Can we trust Merrill?"

"Hawke," said Isabela, and her voice was so serious, so devoid of any of its usual saucy bravado, that Fenris' eyes flew to her in surprise.

Hawke seemed to notice, too. "What is it, Isabela?" she asked, and Fenris could hear the trepidation in her voice.

"Merrill deserves another chance," replied Isabela. "Doesn't she?" she added softly.

Everyone was silent for long moments, perhaps thinking as he was – remembering just how many chances Hawke had give Isabela herself.

Fenris felt Hawke's hand grip his under the table, and he shifted his gaze to hers. The question in her eyes was obvious, as was the fact that she was handing this decision to him. Without words she told him that she knew and understood exactly why he would not trust a mage, especially a former blood mage, despite her apparent change of ways. He was increasingly frustrated by his own lack of knowledge when it came to the potential threat posed by the Dread Wolf. He knew they needed the help of true Dalish elves, but wished that help could come from someone, anyone else.

_Needs must_ , he thought to himself. What choice did they have, really? And it was not as if he was sending his children off alone, no. He would be with them, protecting them every step of the way. Including their dealings with Merrill –  _every_ last dealing with the Dalish Mage, in fact. He knew Hawke saw the assent in his eyes before he even nodded his head by the way the smile blossomed on her lips.

"We will leave in six weeks, then," Hawke said. "Who's coming with us?"

In the end, Varric agreed, as well as Isabela and Pardus, but they needed another sword and Aveline's position as head of the Starkhaven's City Guard made her hesitant to join them.

"I will go," said Donnic, surprising everyone, "If Prince Vael will give me leave."

Aveline's eyebrows shot up her forehead. "Donnic?" she asked.

"I will go in your stead," he told her. "It is the least we can do for our friends."

Sebastian said, "Of course I give you leave, Donnic. I only wish that I could go myself."

Fenris noted the sour look on Aveline's face for the rest of the evening. He assumed Donnic would receive an earful once they were alone. He was, however, extremely pleased Donnic would join them. The man was not only an excellent fighter, but also a good friend. It eased his mind to not be the lone sword.

He checked on the twins before joining Hawke. They were both sleeping peacefully, and he felt himself truly begin to relax for the first time that night. Eagerly, he quickened his pace to join Hawke in their room, and the sight that greeted him when he opened the door made his heart leap. There was his wife, leaning against the bedpost wearing only a sultry smile.

 

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

How long had he been wandering the paths of the Fade? There was no answer to be found in this place where time had no meaning. Only his emotions held sway, and chief among those emotions was regret.

Regret that he'd been so impulsive in life. Regret that he'd joined with Justice. Regret that he'd blown up the Chantry and killed so many innocent people. Regret that he'd not trusted Hawke to help him. Regret that he'd died alone and friendless.

_Regret_.

It was a hard ball of fire in his chest that never left him. And so he moved between the fiefs of this dream world, searching for he knew not what. For where would he find his answers? Where was the possibility of redemption in a place where nothing was fixed, nothing was real?

There were only two things that never changed in this shifting realm of lost souls, demons, spirits and dreams. The first was the Black City, hovering always out of reach in the vast, otherwise empty sky - a sky without sun or moon or stars - only mist and vapor that swirled endlessly in meaningless patterns.

The other constant was the whispering voices, just beyond the edge of his hearing - voices speaking unknown words into his mind. Voices that rose in excited agitation and then fell into bleak despair. Always and forever filling his head with their need, their sadness, their longing. Sometimes he would succumb to them, following the threads of emotion they carried, but it never led him anywhere. Never brought him succor. Like the Black City above him, their source was unreachable.

He crested a hill and Anders saw a small stone bridge in the distance. It traversed a rushing, babbling brook and something about it pulled him forward, compelled by he knew not what.

As he came closer, he noticed a small figure sitting on the edge of the bridge, its legs dangling over the water, swinging with a child's restlessness. When at last his feet stepped upon the smooth stones, the figure turned to look at him, and when she smiled he almost felt alive again – such was the shock that it would have stopped his breath and stilled his beating heart.

This child, this little girl… "Hawke?" he croaked.

Her smile grew wider. "That's my Mama's name," she said in a voice filled with song. "How did you know?"

That smile - one he had missed so much, for so very long. "Y-your m-mother?" he stammered.

"That's what Papa calls her, but her name is Mari," the little girl responded.

Anders walked the rest of the way to her. "What are you doing here?" he asked, still in shock. Hawke's daughter? She must be eight or nine years old. Had so much time passed in the mortal world? His thoughts were a confused jumble and it seemed as if the incessant whispering all around him was louder than before.

"I'm waiting for my brother," she simply said.

"Your brother?" he asked inanely. Maker help him he sounded like an idiot.

The little girl laughed, and it was filled with the sound of tinkling bells. "He stayed up late with Uncle Varric," she said as if that explained everything.

_Varric_? He thought. He couldn't wrap his mind around this at all.

Hawke's daughter seemed to sense his confusion and said, "We always dream together now, ever since…" For the first time her smile faltered and she was silent for long moments before she asked, "Who are you?"

Anders knelt down beside her and replied, "My name is Anders. I once knew your mother."

"Anders?" questioned Melody with wide eyes. "The Mage?"

He couldn't help himself, he chuckled – this child was so delightful. "Yes," he said. "And what's your name?"

She looked at him suspiciously for a moment before she asked, "What's Uncle Varric's crossbow's name?"

"What?" he asked in turn, startled by the question.

"Do you know or not?" was her only reply.

"Bianca," Anders told her. "His one true love."

The little girl's face cleared. "Only the real Anders would know that," she said with a satisfied smile. "My name is Melody."

"Melody," he tasted her name on his tongue. "A beautiful name. It suits you."

She smiled again, and there was Hawke. "Are you dead?" she asked. "Because I'm not. I'm only dreaming."

_What a precocious child_! He thought, but he was still delighted by her. How could he not be? Before he could answer another voice called from the other side of the bridge.

"Melody!"

Anders stood and turned to see a boy of about the same age approaching them. Twins? The boy was running, the mop of his golden hair flopping over his brow. When he finally approached them, Anders saw the somber green eyes of Fenris peering back at him suspiciously. Of course, he thought. He rubbed at his forehead as the whisperings peaked in an excited rush. He could almost make out the words that seemed to swirl in the air all around him.

"Who is this Melody?" the boy asked. "You know Aunty Bethy said not to talk to spirits in the Fade."

"He's not a spirit, Farrell," said Melody petulantly. "It's Anders."

"Anders?" questioned Farrell. "The Mage?"

Melody nodded. "Mama's friend from Kirkwall."

"Her friend that blew up the Chantry," said Farrell with a frown.

Definitely Fenris' son then, and apparently they both knew what had happened that fateful day.

"I thought you'd be taller," said Farrell gazing up at him in a not so friendly manner.

"I'm tall enough," said Anders rising to his full height.

Melody interrupted them. "You never told me if you were dead or dreaming," she complained.

Anders nearly laughed. He could barely keep up with their questions and chatter and was distracted by the voices in the air, in his mind. "I am dead," he said hanging his head, and the laughter inside him was gone as quickly as it came. "Stuck in the Fade until… until I don't know when."

The tug on his hand surprised him, and he looked down to see Melody sliding her fingers through his. "Don't be sad," she said. "You can visit with us when we're dreaming."

"Melody…" said Farrell in a warning voice.

The little girl looked at her brother impatiently. "We'll check with Mama and Aunt Bethy," she said. "But I'm sure it will be okay."

Suddenly Anders felt something he had not felt since coming to the Fade. He was interested, curious and was overcome with a desire to know everything about these two remarkable children. So he said, "Perhaps for now we can just talk. I'd like to know all about you, and what happened to my other friends."

"Like Uncle Varric and Auntie Bela?" asked Melody.

"How do we know you're not trying to trick us?" interrupted Farrell.

"Trick you into what?" asked Anders.

Melody and Farrell shared a look that he could not decipher. Finally Farrell said, "Not yet." But Anders had no idea what he meant.

It was Melody who turned back to him, her hand gripping his tightly, and said, "I think I like you, but I have to make sure before we tell you anything."

"Tell me? I don't understand," he replied. "What's wrong?" He was getting a sense there was more going on here than these two children simply having a dream. And why wouldn't those infernal voices stop chattering?

Farrell said, "Melody's right. You should go."

His interested and curiosity were replaced by frustration. They were children, but suddenly he felt they were the ones in charge of this situation. "Go where? I don't understand…"

Melody released his hand and moved to stand by her brother. "I'm sorry, Anders," she said. "It's important. Maybe we'll see you again."

He started to argue, but the look on both of their faces stopped him. It was almost like seeing miniature versions of Hawke and Fenris staring him down with their judgment. He sighed. Just like when he was alive.

"Fine," he said. Where moments ago he had felt uplifted, now his mood was blacker than before. And the whispering was nearly too loud to bear - it was beginning to made his noncorporal head hurt. He turned away and walked down the slope of the small bridge, wondering if he'd ever see them again.

It wasn't until they were lost to his sight that he realized the whispering had quieted to its usual volume. He shook his head, puzzled, but too weary to figure it out. With heavy heart, he continued to walk the paths of the Fade.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

As was their custom, Hawke and Fenris broke their fast each morning with the children in their private suite. Lately Hawke had come to treasure these quiet moments all the more because the schedule they were keeping to train the twins was hectic to say the least. Today, for example, included an early morning class at the Circle on Magical Theory followed by two hours of stealth training by herself and Isabela. After a break for lunch, Sebastian and Melody would take their bows to the garden while Varric and Farrell went to off to the weapons smithy at the barracks. And that was just the first half of the day.

If they could manage to tear Farrell away from working on his new crossbow, she and Fenris planned to spend the rest of the afternoon on blade training. The twins were too young, and therefore too small, to begin to learn with anything larger than a dagger, yet even that made Hawke nervous. Still, there was much that she and Fenris could teach them of tactics and of the various skills they would eventually need, no matter the size of the weapon; especially teaching them to fight as a team – something they'd mastered long ago and practiced together to this day.

Hawke was just buttering the last slice of toast when the twins burst into the parlor.

"Are there muffins?" sang Melody as she took her seat. Her daughter rarely censored her singing when it was only the four of them.

"Apple muffins," confirmed Hawke as Farrell sat down next to his sister. "Still warm, in fact," she added with a smile.

Fenris rose from the desk where he'd been replying to Varania's letter to join them at the table. Melody was tearing into her first muffin, but Farrell was sitting quietly staring at his hands where they rested in his lap. Her son was rarely exuberant, but there was something about his posture, his expression, that made her uneasy. She glanced at Fenris who was also watching Farrell.

"Farrell?" she questioned.

Melody abruptly stopped eating her muffin and looked from Farrell to her mother and back again with wide eyes. Hawke set the teapot back on the table and went to kneel next to her son's chair.

"What is it?" she asked him. Ever since the twins had dreamt of Fen'Harel she'd been more worried about them while they slept than when awake. "Did you have another dream?"

Melody nearly choked on her muffin and began to chew rapidly.

"Melody?" growled Fenris. "What has happened?"

Melody shook her head and pointed to her full mouth.

They both turned to Farrell again.

"We did dream," he said, "we dream nearly every night."

Hawke knew that to be so, but since that first dream of the Dread Wolf, their experiences in the Fade had been benign. She'd been interested to learn that in their dreams they usually met each other on an old stone bridge that crossed a babbling stream. She often wondered if it was the same place where she'd once met her father, but given the transient nature of the Fade, it seemed unlikely.

"Was it Fen'Harel?" asked Fenris, and though his voice was calm, Hawke noticed his clenched fist resting on the table.

Farrell shook his head. "No, not him," he said, "but we met someone else last night."

Hawke lifted her hand to Farrell's chin and turned his face to hers. "Who?" she asked softly.

"It was…," Farrell began and licked his lips before continuing. "He said he was Anders."

Fenris rose from his chair so swiftly the plate of muffins clattered to the floor. Melody squealed and despite Fenris' sudden anger, Hawke nearly laughed when her daughter's hand shot out in a failed attempt to save the muffins. She quelled her humor as best she could and focused again on Farrell.

"Can you describe him?" she asked gently, but then was alarmed when she noticed the faint glow of blue lyrium pulsing under the skin of Fenris' still clenched fist. Her eyes shot to his and held there until the lyrium light faded; his face, however, remained set in an impressive scowl. He could vent his anger later. She knew it would please him no more than her if he were to lose control of himself in front of the children.

Hawke turned back to Farrell again and nodded encouragingly. "Go on," she prompted.

"He had blond hair," Farrell told her, but his eyes were glued to his father, "tied with a piece of cording."

When he didn't continue right away, Hawke said, "And?"

"His face was stubbly and there were feathers all over his coat," said Farrell reluctantly.

"His eyes were the color of autumn honey," piped in Melody and she flushed when they all looked at her.

"Do you remember anything else?" Hawke asked.

"He knew Bianca's name," Melody said, and her voice had dropped to a whisper as if she were confiding a secret.

Fenris grunted, and not in a good way.

"And what did he say to you?" Hawke asked her daughter, who seemed more willing to talk about the dream than Farrell.

Melody explained how Anders had found her on the bridge and her called Hawke. She repeated their conversation, and from the way Melody was able to memorize songs, Hawke was certain of her daughter's accuracy in the retelling. She was also nearly certain that her children had met Anders in the Fade. And if it was him, what did that mean? Was he there as Justice, or had he died a mortal death? The one time she had been with Justice in the Fade, his eyes had most certainly not been the color of honey. Add to that, the twins did not mention any black smoke or jagged glowing blue lines shining through him. A sadness filled her heart as she wondered how he had died and when.

"Is it him, Mama? Is it really Anders?" asked Melody.

"What should we do if we meet him again?" asked Farrell before Hawke could respond.

Fenris finally spoke. "Do not go near him," he said, his temper barely contained.

"He was nice, Papa," sang Melody in high tones. "Not mean or scary."

"He is dangerous," growled Fenris, and Hawke saw his hand began to faintly glow again.

"Melody, Farrell," she said extending a hand to each of the twins, "it's time you got dressed, we'll talk more later."

Hawke ushered them out through the door and shut if firmly behind them before turning to her now fully lyrium-lit husband.

" _Venhedis Fasta Vass_." Fenris let loose the Tevinter expletive as his fist slammed down on the table, scattering more dishes to the floor.

"Fenris," Hawke said impatiently. "This isn't helping."

He snarled and closed the distance between them. "What would you have me do, Hawke?" His fingers caught her arm in a painful grip. "Sit back calmly while my children are in danger?"

She lifted one eyebrow and said carefully, "You weren't this upset when they dreamt of Fen'Harel."

"The Dread Wolfe is a legend, an unknown threat," he hissed between his teeth. "That mage is a murderer. An abomination."

"It is unlikely Anders is still joined with Justice in the Fade," Hawke said, ignoring the pain in her arm.

"The Fade," he spat. "A place of magic and demons." He released her and began to pace. "Don't you understand? I cannot protect them. I cannot  _reach_  them there." He turned back to her and now the lyrium lit his eyes as well. "I cannot bear this, Hawke," he growled and the agony in his voice was there beneath the anger.

"This isn't just about Anders, is it?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm. She had never seen him quite like this before. Not even when he'd killed Danarius, the mage responsible for his years of suffering and torment. There had been anger, yes. Rage, certainly. But this… he was terrified.

"Of course it isn't," he snarled. "Though I wish I had killed him myself when I had the chance."

"And that would change things how?" she asked him sharply. "Anders would still be in the Fade." She stalked over to him and grabbed his shoulders. The lyrium hummed beneath her fingers but she did not release him. "If we want to protect Melody and Farrell we must think clearly."

"What good will  _thinking_  do?" He grabbed her arms and pushed her away from him. Hawke stumbled and barely kept her balance has her hip knocked against the table.

Her own anger rose to meet his in that moment. After all they'd been through together, not once had he ever touched her in anger. Now he had done it twice in as many minutes.

"I am their mother," she said in soft, dangerous tones. "You think I feel this any less?"

He stared at her with wild eyes, not moving.

She took a deep breath to rein in her own riotous emotions and said, "I understand your fear, Fenris. I understand you feel helpless against powers beyond our control." Again she approached him, but this time did not touch him. The next move was his and she hoped he regained enough control of himself to consider it carefully. " _Vir Assan,"_ she said and took another step. _"Vir Bor'Assan."_ She lifted her hand to him and the ring on her finger glittered in the lamplight.  _"Vir Adahlen."*_

But Fenris wasn't looking at her hand. His eyes were glued to the place on her arm where a fresh bruise was blooming in angry shades of red and purple. His markings began to fade and when his eyes finally met hers they were the crystalline green of her love.

"Hawke," he choked out, "Hawke, I am sorry." His eyes shot back to the bruise on her arm again, but he did not move.

"As you should be," she said, but not it anger or recrimination. He should regret his actions, yes - but she would allow him do that for himself without adding her own pain to his. "Fenris…"

His eyes shot back to hers, and the remorse in them nearly broke her heart.

"Is this going to happen again?" she asked softly. "You put Melody and Farrell in danger when you lose yourself that way."

He shook his head slowly. "No," he said, his voice hoarse. "No it will not." Hesitantly, he moved to close the gap between them. "Can you forgive me, Hawke?"

"Can I forgive you for loving your children so much?" she asked him in turn. "Your fears are justified - but not, I think, over Anders."

Gently he rested his fingers where he'd bruised her. "You are everything to me," he said, "and yet look what I have done."

"Fenris," she said in a voice filled with determination, "There is no greater fear than that we could lose those we love most. But if you let that fear rule you, if you allow it to be stronger than your love, you cannot protect anyone – not Melody, not Farrell – not me."

"I cannot follow them into the Fade," he said, and some of the bitterness returned to his voice. "I cannot protect them at all."

"That's where you're wrong, my love," she said. "They already possess what is best in both of us. It's our job to nurture those things that will allow them to protect themselves. This you know."

"And yet will it be enough?" he asked. "Against such forces, how can it be enough?"

"Wherever they are, whatever they face, we will always be with them." She placed her hand on his chest over his heart. "In here." Hawke could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted to believe her, so she told him. "Trust me Fenris, we will not fail our children. But it is our love, not our fear, that will make it so."

_* Elvhen for: Together we are stronger than one. Do not waiver. Bend, but never break._

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

"Is Papa okay?" Melody asked once they were in their own room.

"I don't know," Farrell replied. He wanted to reassure his sister, but he would not lie to her.

"I wish Papa hadn't knocked the muffins on the floor," she said.

Farrell only glared at her.

"What? They were really good!" she insisted.

Farrell had known his parents wouldn't be pleased they had met Anders in the Fade, but he hadn't expected his father to become so angry. He'd never see Papa that way, and though he would not admit it to Melody, he was scared. So he told her "I'm sure he didn't mean to," which was the truth, in a way.

Melody took his hand in hers. "Could Anders be so very bad?" she asked.

"He killed a lot of people, Melody," Farrell replied, his thoughts in turmoil.

"But he was so sad," she said, and she was agitated enough she was fully singing now. "I bet he's really sorry."

Farrell didn't know what to think. Could you ever be sorry enough for killing so many and starting a war? "I don't know if it matters how sorry he is. All those people are still dead."

"And now Anders is dead, too," Melody said. "Isn't that enough?"

Farrell only shook his head. He had no answers for her.

"What if we see him again?" she persisted.

"I'm sure Mama and Papa will tell us," replied Farrell, trying to hold onto his patience. At least he hoped they would. "Come on, let's get dressed," he added.

Melody slipped behind the partition that separated her side of the room from his. They could have had their own rooms if they'd so chosen, but after their dream of Fen'Harel, neither of them had wanted to be apart. Farrell had a feeling he couldn't shake that they should be near each other while they slept, as if somehow they were stronger together in the Fade when they were.

He'd just finished combing the tangles out of his hair when there was a light rapping on the door.

"Come in," he called and Melody's head poked around the wooden screen just as the door opened.

His mother's smile immediately reassured him. When she smiled like that, Farrell could not believe anything bad would ever happen to any of them. When Papa entered the room right behind her, another bit of his apprehension melted away. That calm, serious expression on his father's face had comforted him through so many hurts and ills. It was going to be all right.

Melody seemed to sense the same thing, because she ran around the corner of the screen, dark hair flying behind her in waves. She ran to her father singing, "Papa, Papa, Papa!" and was soon wrapped in his arms in a tight hug.

A warmth spread through Farrell watching them, and he realized for the first time in his life just how much his parents always made him feel safe and secure. Having only experienced less than an hour of doubt, he felt his surety in them now all the more. His mother reached her hand out to him and he grasped it tightly in his own. In her other hand was a new plate of muffins. He looked up at her and she grinned down at him.

"No, I did not rescue these from the floor," she said teasingly, and handed him the plate. "You missed your breakfast," she added softly.

Melody reached out and Farrell lifted the plate for his sister to grab a muffin. By the time Mama suggested they all sit down and talk, Farrell was no longer afraid.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Although he was once again in control of himself, as Fenris sat with Hawke and the children on the rug in front of the fireplace, there remained a hard knot of fear in his stomach. It wasn't as though he'd never felt fear before, of course he had. It had been fear that had caused him to run from Hawke that first night after they'd made love. But that fear had been more akin to panic than the terrible dread he now felt. It was only when Hawke had been kidnapped by the Magistrate that he'd felt anything even remotely similar, but that had been well before he'd learned the depth and breadth of his love for her. In those days he'd still relied heavily upon his slave's ability to feel nothing at all.

Those days were long past, and he could no more turn off the love he felt for his family than he could willingly stop breathing. It was fear for his family that had combined with his anger, or his predisposition to anger, that had sent him over the edge of reason. He glanced at the mark he'd left on Hawke's arm and vowed to make it up to her in every way that was within his power. She may have easily forgiven him, such was her nature, but he could not forgive himself. There was no excuse for what he had done, and he could only follow her example and allow his remorse to guide his actions in the future.

Melody settled on his lap and her fine hair tickled his cheek, rousing him from his internal thoughts and making him smile. Hawke was right, of course. It was fierce love that would see them all through this, that would give him the strength to protect his family. He breathed in the soft scent of his daughter and felt the knot within him loosen slightly.

"Are you going to tell us about Anders now, Mama?" asked Melody.

Fenris inhaled a deep breath and struggled to keep his body relaxed, his focused centered on his wife as she replied to their daughter.

"Yes, I am," replied Hawke.

Fenris listened as she began to tell the story of Anders and Justice. She told them of his merging with the spirit; of how he'd wanted to help improve the lives of mages, and yet how the spirit within him had corrupted his motivations into a terrible need for vengeance. She described her childhood in Ferelden, how her father moved them from village to village in order to to keep Bethany safe from Templars. She explained that in other places in Thedas, Malcolm would have been taken away from his mother and father, and they would not have been allowed to ever see him again.

Farrell interrupted his mother. "I've read about that," he said. "That as soon as someone was known to be a mage, they had to go to the Circle and live there forever."

Melody nearly sobbed. "How could they do that?" Her thin arms wrapped around Fenris seeking comfort.

Fenris spoke then. "Because magic is dangerous if it is not disciplined. Demons seek those that have magic and if they succumb the mage becomes a terrible force of destruction."

"Is that what happened to Anders?" asked Farrell.

"In a way," replied Hawke. "Anders merged with a spirit of Justice, and for a long time they worked together to help mages and heal the downtrodden." Fenris could see the sadness pooling in her eyes as she continued. "But over the years Anders lost himself to the spirit, and Justice became a force of vengeance bent on killing Templars and destroying the Chantry instead of aiding those who needed help."

"In the Fade, Anders seemed really sad," said Melody. "He didn't seem angry at all."

"I believe that Anders and Justice were separated when he died," replied Hawke. "That it is once again Anders alone who wanders the Fade."

"So can we trust him?" asked Farrell. "Will he hurt us?"

Fenris was relieved to hear Hawke reply, "I don't know, my darling."

"So what do we do if we see him again?" asked Melody.

Hawke looked at him then, and he could see in her eyes that she wanted him to speak on this matter. They had discussed this before coming to the twins, and he knew that after his recent loss of control, Melody and Farrell needed that reassurance that only he could give.

"You must speak with him," said Fenris, even though the thought of his twins in the presence of Anders made his heart beat rapidly in his chest. "You must find out why he is in the Fade and what happened to Justice."

"Can he use magic on us?" asked Farrell.

Hawke nodded. "Yes, he is a mage, and in the Fade his magic will be strong."

"He didn't use any magic last time," said Melody. "He just wanted us to tell him about you and Uncle Varric and everybody."

"The most important thing is that you both stay together while you are in the Fade. Never separate," said Hawke. "Until we can learn more, you must be very cautious."

"May we answer his questions?" asked Farrell.

"To a degree," replied Fenris. "Tell him as little as possible about yourselves, but you may answer his questions about your mother's companions in Kirkwall."

"Here is where you must be strong, my darlings," said Hawke. "You must tell him that if he uses any magic at all, you will not speak with him again."

"Why?" asked Melody. Fenris knew that Melody did not have a proper fear of mages. Her only true example was her Aunt Bethany, the finest mage Fenris had ever known. If all mages where like his sister-in-law, the world would have far fewer problems.

"We do not know what he wants or what he is now capable of," replied Fenris, struggling to keep his voice even. Part of him wanted to keep the children from sleeping, from dreaming, at all - as irrational a thought as that may be.

"Instead of class this morning, I've sent word to the First Enchanter," said Hawke. "We will speak to him on what you might do to protect yourselves while in the Fade."

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Melody ran her fingers along the smooth edges of the amulet the First Enchanter had given her. Farrell had its match hanging on a silver chain around his neck.

"The amulets will offer you some magical resistance," he told them seriously as he'd clasped the chains at the back of their throats. "In the meantime I will commission enchantments for stronger protection."

"Where is Sandal when you need him?" her mother had sighed.

"In Orlais, if I recall," Papa had replied.

Melody vaguely remembered hearing about Sandal when Uncle Varric told his stories, but there had been no time to ask questions, because the grownups were too busy talking about designing special robes for them to wear as they slept at night. She thought she remembered Sandal was a dwarf who loved to eat pie.

Now she and Farrell were going with Mama to meet Aunty Bela, and Melody could barely contain her excitement. Finally they were going to learn to be sneaky! Aunty Bela especially had always loved to play the "find me" game with her ever since she could remember. No matter how many times Mama reminded her it wasn't a game, she couldn't wait to be the one who could seem to disappear into thin air.

"Kitten," a voice suddenly whispered in Melody's ear, making her squeal. How did Aunty Bela do that? Today, she hoped to find out.

"Let's go," Isabela said taking Farrell by the hand. "I know the perfect spot to practice."

"Not down at the docks I hope," said Mama with a grin.

"Not this time, Hawke," Isabela said laughing. "Someplace much better."

Someplace better turned out to be the alienage, a place where Melody had never been. The elves watched them curiously as the passed, and she thought that she'd never been around so many at one time. These elves seemed very different from her father, and even from Zevran, who though not as tall as Papa was very handsome and strong. Thinking of Zevran made her miss him terribly, and she hoped they would see him soon. But these elves seemed small, some of them hardly taller than Farrell, and their legs and arms were very thin. Melody guessed that just like humans, elves came in lots of shapes and sizes.

"The alienage is perfect because there are more shadows here than anywhere else in Starkhaven," said Isabela.

Melody looked around at the strange way the buildings all crowded together, some tall and some squat, others seemingly huddled together in odd groupings, and there were lots of twists to the road and blind alleys.

"Let's begin with the different types of shadows," said Aunty Bela. "Very important stuff, because the shadow is the rogue's best friend." She looked down and winked at Melody and pointed to the shadow caste by a fruit vendor's stand. "See how the shadow deepens the closer it is to the cart…"

Later, as she retrieved her bow to join Uncle Sebastian in the garden, Melody understood very clearly what she hadn't known before this first lesson. She'd spent most of the morning doing nothing more than learning to stand perfectly still in the shadows – to keep her breath quiet and not to fidget or squirm. Of course it turned out that Farrell was much better at it than she was, but that was only because he was that way without even trying. Someday, she thought with determination, I'll better than Farrell. Better than even Aunty Bela! And so it was with a smile that she ran to begin her bow lessons.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

The first golden rays of the sun shone through the window as Hawke lie in bed, Fenris still deeply asleep beside her. Her thoughts quickly turned to the twins as she yawned and stretched, wondering how they had faired through another night in the Fade.

As the weeks had passed even Hawke, who like all mothers believed her children to be the brightest and most talented children in all the world, had been amazed at the progress of Melody and Farrell's training. Her fears that they pushed the twins too hard decreased with each passing day as she watched them thrive – growing ever more proficient and confident in the tasks set before them in nearly miraculous ways.

Yes, Melody was sometimes distracted by the birds who came to sing to her while she practiced her bow in the garden, and it was always a struggle to pull Farrell away from his work with Varric in the smithy, but considering their youth and the enormity of what was expected of them, Hawke was incredibly proud.

She supposed it also helped that their dreaming time had been fairly quiet. They had not yet seen Anders again in the Fade since that first night over a month ago. Hawke did find it odd that the twins continued to dream only of that same place – the old stone bridge over the rushing stream. The nature of the Fade was so transient, Hawke had started to wonder if the twins themselves were not creating it, or were anchored to that particular spot, or… something. It was impossible to guess, but she was glad for it, nonetheless.

The First Enchanter had completed their sleeping robes - hardly robes in the traditional sense of the Circle. When Hawke remembered how many times she'd been forced to sleep in full armor, she was grateful that Bergrand had come up with such a clever design: loose pants with a long overtunic, short in the front but longer in the back that came nearly to their knees. Soft strips of leather were set at the seams and enchanted with strong runes of protection and defense, especially against the various forms of magic. Their outfits were completed with soft, felt boots with flexible leather soles.

That alone had eased her heart considerably. Tonight one final thing would be added to their nightly ensemble – short daggers, well sheathed and set in holsters custom designed by Pardus, to be strapped at their thighs.

Ironic that the twins "nighttime" armor had been completed before any thought was given to daytime protection as they prepared for their impending journey. Today, in fact, they would visit the Armorer for the twins' first fittings – none too soon as they were to depart for the Dalish camp in less than a fortnight.

The only kink in their training schedule had come from their lessons at the Circle. The other children had so incessantly teased the twins, especially Melody with her voice always tending toward song, that in a fit of pique, her daughter had called an entire flock of hummingbirds into the classroom. The tiny birds had proceeded to dart about, tangling in the students' hair and poking at their exposed skin with their needlelike beaks.

After much discussion with Enchanter Herman, it was decided that the twins would benefit from more private tutoring specifically geared toward demons and possession. Bethany, Maker bless her, had immediately volunteered for the job.

Thoughts of her sister made Hawke smile. Bethany was just beginning to show, the child within her apparently healthy and strong. Hawke was loathe to leave her sister, but this trip to find Merrill could not be delayed, and she hoped to return to Starkhaven before the babe was born.

Which brought the main source of Hawke's current unease to mind. The twins said Anders was hearing whispering voices in the Fade, and despite the efforts of the First Enchanter to discover what it might mean, there was no record of such a thing ever happening in all the lore of the Circle. Her hope was that Merrill might be able to explain this new development.

Fenris stirred beside her and a strong arm encircled her waist and pulled her to him with a speed that belied his newly awakened state. Hooded green eyes peered at her, the light in them speaking clearly of what was on his mind.

"Hmm," she murmured as she looped her arms around his neck. "And what have you been dreaming?" she asked.

The slow, predatory smile that curved his lips kindled a heat low in her belly.

"I'll give you three guess," he growled as his mouth descended to the pulse at her throat.

"Fighting darkspawn?" she teased.

"No," he replied as his lips and tongue began to work their magic.

Hawke giggled and pushed her fingers into his thick mane of hair. "Flying on the back of a dragon?" she ventured.

"No," he growled more emphatically as his hands swept down her back and pulled her more firmly against him.

Hawke opened her mouth to make her third guess, but Fenris' mouth was suddenly hovering above hers as he said, "Allow me to show you."

He did show her, and for so long that they were barely dressed by the time the twins burst through the door.

"No muffins?" sang Melody.

Hawke laughed. "Breakfast will be in the kitchen this morning, my darling."

Melody began to sing about pancakes and bacon and sweet, clotted cream as they left their suite and descended the broad staircase for a proper breakfast.

**FROM THE JOURNAL OF VARRIC TETHRAS**

Being a dwarf and all, I don't have a connection to the Fade – none of my people do. From what I understand it's full of demons and shit, so who in their right mind would want to go there every night in their sleep? But, apparently, non-dwarves have no choice in the matter, poor sods.

I probably wouldn't care about the Fade at all if it weren't having such a serious impact on the lives of those two little urchins. The Dread Wolf? Is that guy even real? And is he really a wolf, or just some kind of demon/god thing that pretends to be a wolf? Nobody seems to be able to answer these questions any better than I can, so in a few weeks we're off to find Daisy, hoping she can enlighten us all. It'll be good to see her again, even though I'm sure I'll be subjected to way too much dirt and far too many rocks.

Even watching Daisy frolic will hardly compensate for all that  _nature,_  but there is no way I'd stay behind on this trip.

So, here's something interesting. We had this big meeting about the twins and their weird dreaming not long after Rivaini and her catman showed up here in Starkhaven. We made all kinds of plans to train my little Sparrow and her brother, and Fenris gave the go-ahead to make the trip to the Dalish. All of it just what you'd expect from a meeting of that sort.

What had my jaw dropping into my chest hair was when Donnic volunteered to go with us. I know, I couldn't believe it! From the look on Aveline's face, I'd say the idea didn't make her feel all happy and squishy inside, either.

The meeting broke up and even though I'm not as good as Rivaini or Hawke, I sort of followed them back to their quarters in the barracks. What? How else do you expect me to get a good story?

Lucky for me the argument began once we'd reached that long tunnel that connects the barracks to the palace. I don't think they realized just how loudly their voices echoed in that thing. I couldn't have  _not_  overheard them even if I'd tried, which I didn't.

It went something like this:

"And what was that about?" asked Aveline, her voice bouncing off the stone walls of the tunnel in frigid tones.

"I won't pretend not to understand you," replied Donnic, and Andraste's ass, he sounded even more reserved than his wife.

"I should hope not," she bit off. "If this is because…"

"Because of what?" Donnic practically shouted.

"Why don't you just out with it?" she asked him. "If this is because I haven't conceived…"

"If you want the truth, I'll give it to you," he said angrily. "It's not because there's no child, it's because you're a royal bitch anymore!"

There was the distinct sound of a hand slapping a face at that point.

"How dare you…" hissed Aveline.

"I dare because it's true," Donnic said, his voice lowered but no less vehement. "It never mattered to me if we had children, but with each year that passes your bitterness grows like a malignant tumor."

There was a rather long silence, during which I squirmed a bit. Yeah, this seemed a little bit too private, even for my ears.

Finally Aveline spoke again. "Fine. Go. I don't need you."

"That is painfully obvious," replied Donnic.

I heard their footsteps resume down the tunnel until they faded and there was once again silence. I decided not to follow them.

I haven't told anyone else about my little excursion that night, but I have to say I feel kind of bad for them both. Maybe some time apart will help, who knows?

I seriously need to lighten the mood here, so let me tell you about something I've been thoroughly enjoying.

I'll begin by saying that I have never seen such a clever pair of hands as those belonging to Hawke's son.

For the past month, Farrell and I have been spending a part of every day working on his crossbow – Bianca number two, or so we've been calling her – hehe. She'll need her own name soon, of course, but let me tell you she's turned into a real beauty. Almost makes me jealous. Almost.

That little urchin is not only clever, but he's the most meticulous person I've ever met – elf, dwarf or human. The care he takes – not the smallest thing escapes his notice. Just yesterday when we were putting the finishing touches on the pull trigger, well, I think he must have reset the thing a dozen times before he was satisfied. Farrell chose ash as the wood for the stock, which makes her look like a piece of art with all those myriad swirls ranging in color from nearly white to a deep, rich russet.

I asked him what he thought her name might be, and Farrell just looked at me with that serious, somber expression of his for a moment before his lips quirked and he asked, "You did tell me Mirabelle was taken?"

Just like his father, you never quite expect those little bits of humor that pop up out of nowhere, hehe.

We're going to unveil her to everyone later today, and I admit I'm a bit nervous. We've tried her out a few times on the sly, and she seems to be every bit as deadly accurate as Bianca, but we shall see.

I just hope that Sebastian doesn't have any clever comments about Bianca number two's cock ring. That man is seriously pushy when it comes to archery, hehe.


	3. Chapter 3

Farrell, who was rarely if ever nervous, had a serious case of the jitters. He was waiting in the shrubbery outside the garden gate with Uncle Varric, clutching his new crossbow tightly in his arms. Inside the garden, everyone he cared about was waiting to see the results of nearly two months of effort.

"Farrell," Varric said and he nearly jumped out of his skin. The dwarf's eyes widened as he continued, "Whoa there, you need to start breathing again." A thick hand rested on Farrell's shoulder. "It's just a suggestion."

Farrell nodded and did his best to draw air into his lungs past the lump in his throat.

"She's a beauty," Varric told him. "You should be proud instead of jumping like a dwarf seeing the sky for the first time."

"What if…" Farrell began, but his voice had squeaked into a high pitch, so he cleared his throat and began again. "What if she misfires in front of everyone?"

"Not going to happen," Varric said with certainty. "Bianca has never misfired once in all the years we've been together."

Farrell looked down at his crossbow doubtfully. "Is she as good as Bianca?" he asked.

Varric reached for the latch on the gate as he replied. "There's only one way to find out." He turned and winked before adding, "And you really need to start calling her by her name or you'll hurt her feelings."

A small smile finally curved Farrell's lips as he followed Varric into the garden.

The murmured conversations of those gathered abruptly stopped as Farrell took his place, three hay bales were placed directly in his line of sight perhaps thirty paces in front of him. Each of the three bales had its own target affixed to it. Now that the moment was finally here, Farrell felt himself begin to calm. He ran his hands lovingly over the smooth stock of his crossbow, admiring again the natural patterns made by the grain of the ash wood.

He glanced around at those assembled, his gaze resting last on his mother and father where they stood together with calm expectation. His sister, however, stood in front of them and there were butterflies in her hair as she bounced on her heels, a wide smile on her face. Farrell smiled back at her and lifted his crossbow over his head.

"Meet Valora," he told the crowd, and felt his cheeks flush when the applause began.

He glanced at Uncle Sebastian who was squinting his eyes as if to get a better look at the new crossbow. Farrell's smile grew wider as he reached to his back and removed three bolts from his quiver. Carefully he set the bolts in the grooves and pulled back the cock lever before he lifted Valora and took aim, his finger resting ever so lightly on the trigger.

This was the tricky part, he knew. He must align his sight quickly while at the same time adjusting for the kickback as each bolt was released. But there was something about the smooth feel of the stock in his hands and the smell of newly varnished wood that rose to his nose that put him fully at his ease.

Relaxed now, Farrell took aim and fired three times.

_Thwack, thwack, thwack!_

The applause sounded again, louder this time - all three bolts had hit their intended targets, and the center bolt was lodge firmly its bulls-eye. He heard Melody sing his name in a soprano tone.

"Nice start," said Varric from behind him. "Now show them what else she can do."

Feeling bolder now, Farrell chose a single bolt this time, one he and Varric had prepared just for the occasion with a little help from Auntie Bela. He examined the sharp tip to see the resin had held before he carefully set the bolt. If this worked…

He glanced at Aunt Bethy, who nodded back at him with a smile. With a whine the bolt flew the distance to the center bale faster than his eye could track. When it hit the target the hay burst into flame, orange and red and so bright he lifted a hand to shield his eyes. There was a collective gasp from the crowd and then Aunt Bethy lifted her hand and the blackened hay was suddenly encased in ice.

Auntie Bela shouted, "Whoop!" and then her laughter filled the garden.

"One more time, junior," Varric said. "Last but not least and all that."

Farrell glanced back at Varric who gave him an encouraging nod. This next trick was his own design, and he felt his stomach squirm as he made a quick adjustment to the Valora's "special" lever. He took aim on the brick of ice that used to be a bale of hay and heard Varric shout, "You people might want to stand back a bit further." Farrell waited until his audience was well away before he pulled Valora's trigger.

The bolt hit with such force that the ice literally exploded, shards flying in all directions. For a split second he was afraid someone would be hit but once again Aunt Bethy lifted her hand and the ice was no more dangerous than a sudden down pouring of rain.

Farrell felt his cheeks burn as everyone closed in on him with words of praise and congratulations.

Melody got to him first and threw her arms around his neck. "She's even better than Bianca!" his sister sang.

"Whoa there little Sparrow," Varric quipped, "you'll hurt Bianca's feelings."

Melody only laughed and hugged him tighter.

It wasn't until his father came to stand before him, and laid a hand on Farrell's head and said, "Well done," that Farrell felt the threat of tears sting his eyes. And then there was Mama's beautiful smile just for him.

 _Well done_ , he thought to himself as he hugged the crossbow to his chest and the gathered crowd carried him along back into the palace for the celebratory lunch. Something in him shifted then - he was filled with his father's obvious pride in him. He suddenly knew what it meant to be the son of Hawke and Fenris, not just Mama and Papa's little boy. It was a legacy he gladly claimed, and the confidence and surety of purpose that filled his heart was strong well beyond his years.


	4. Chapter 4

**FROM THE JOURNAL OF VARRIC TETHRAS**

Wasn't I the proud mentor and surrogate uncle as Farrell showed off his new crossbow? Why yes, I was. What a performance - even Bianca was impressed. Yes, I think he's going to do just fine, especially with me around to keep up the mentoring.

It could be because I hold the secret of Bianca's name so tightly to myself that I never thought to ask Farrell why he'd name his girl Valora. It was Sebastian who asked him after lunch. Our liege-lord and Prince was all curiosity to examine Farrell's crossbow. I don't even think he knew  _what_  he was eating because his eyes never left her once throughout the entire meal.

I was almost surprised when Farrell handed the Prince his crossbow when lunch was finished. I've never once let  _His_   _Majesty_  get his hands on Bianca, hehe.

"Valora is a beautiful name, Farrell. Does it hold a special meaning for you?" asked Sebastian as he examined the "special" lever Farrell had designed.

I was interested to note that the boy glanced at his mother before answering, and I saw Hawke give a barely perceptible nod to her son.

"My name… Farrell, that is, it means  _Valorous One_  in the old Ferelden dialect," he replied with a blush and a shrug.

Sebastian smiled. "And hence, Valora is the perfect name for her." He lifted the crossbow and set his eye along her sight.

I glanced at Hawke again, and she was smiling so softly at her son, her eyes so filled with love for him, I had to look away again really, really fast.

Just between you and me, I think the next time junior and I have access to a smithy, we're going to install one of those power-house levers on Bianca. I'd do it now but the word is we're leaving in a few days, and it's not a job I care to rush.

And now, I must be off. I have some business to attend to with Hawke.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

The days passed swiftly with much to do in preparation for their trip to the Dalish. Hawke had been worrying over the expense of keeping her growing children in armor and weapons, when Varric brought her some news.

"It's a done deal, Hawke," he told her as he casually strolled into the parlor.

At first she was confused, as her attention was on making a list of supplies. Oh, how she still missed Bodahn. "Pardon me?' she asked the dwarf.

"I've had Sebastian put the chest in the vault, but here's the contract – signed, sealed, and delivered."

Hawke took the parchment from him and scanned the contents. It was a bill of sale for the Amell Estate in Kirkwall. Her brow lifted when she saw the amount it had fetched on the market.

"Varric!" she exclaimed, and dropped the parchment to pull him into a tight hug. "You're a miracle worker!"

"Aw now Hawke," Varric said as he awkwardly patted her on the back, "don't get all emotional on me."

"It's my children's legacy, Varric," she said as she leaned back to look at him. "You know what this means to me."

"Yes, well," he hedged. "Speaking of which…"

Hawke's stomach fluttered as she released him. "Is there something you're not telling me?" She saw Varric's cheeks were flushed, which had never happened in all the years she'd known him.

"It's just that…" Varric rubbed at the hair on his chest as he hesitated. " _Andraste's ass_ ," he said finally. "It's just those kids, well, you know how I feel about them."

Hawke smiled. "It is just a tad obvious," she said.

"So I… well, um," he began and then rushed ahead. "I set up a trust for them, you know, for when they're grown."

"Varric…" Hawke began, but he cut her off.

"Face it Hawke, I'm never going to have kids of my own, and I'm a very rich dwarf." The smile he gave her was crooked. "I don't want to ever worry about them, is all," he finished.

Hawke knew that any further displays of emotion would send Varric scurrying from the room, so she swallowed her tears and gave him her best smile. "Thank you, Varric," was all she said.

And with a very rough voice Varric replied, "My pleasure, Hawke."

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Melody had spent half the morning searching for Farrell and Malcolm. With everyone busy packing and preparing for the trip, their lessons had all been cancelled and she had taken the opportunity to sleep in after enjoying a rare night of dreamless sleep.

When Melody awoke to find her brother already gone and breakfast long past, she'd found her father in the parlor writing a letter.

"Morning Papa," she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. She inhaled the comforting scent of him. How did Papa always smell so good?

"Melody mine," he said in his growly voice as he pulled her into a hug. "You are late abed this morning."

Melody giggled. "I didn't dream last night," she told him, "and I guess I was tired."

"You have been working admirably hard," he said with some pride. "So what will you do with yourself today?"

She shrugged. "Do you know where Farrell is?"

"I believe he went off with Malcolm, though I don't know where," he replied.

Melody's next stop was the kitchen, where she found her mother and Aunt Bethy. "Where are the boys?" she asked them as she'd snagged a sweet roll from the warming plate.

"They're probably in Malcolm's room," said Aunty Bethy as she handed Melody a large glass of milk.

But she'd looked in Malcolm's room and in the garden and in most their favorite places to play outside the protective eyes of the adults. They were nowhere to be found. She was walking along the narrow corridor on the top floor of the palace when she heard a sound.

"Psst."

She turned to see her brother's green eyes peering at her through the crack in a door she'd never noticed before.

"Farrell," she complained and stomped over to him.

"Shh," he said and grabbed her wrist and pulled her through the door. For a moment everything was pitch black as the door snicked closed behind her, and Melody had just begun to feel afraid, when a soft light lit the passageway. Malcolm's face was strangely aglow from the reflected light at the top of the small staff he carried, and he was grinning wickedly.

"Where are we?" Melody hissed.

Malcolm lifted his staff and illuminated a steep set of stairs behind him. "The attic," he replied.

She and Farrell followed Malcolm's orb of light up the stairway. At the top, the room opened up into a broad, cavernous expanse filled with chests and wardrobes and old, dusty furniture. Malcolm lit several lanterns and extinguished his staff.

"Maker," sang Melody, "this is amazing."

"It was locked," said Farrell, proudly holding up his toolset, "until this morning."

Melody giggled. "Now I almost wish we weren't leaving."

Malcolm frowned and sat down heavily on an upholstered chair, raising a cloud of dust. "I wish I were coming with you," he grumped.

Melody turned to look at her cousin. "Do you think…" she began.

Malcolm shook his head angrily. "They wouldn't even talk about it," he said morosely.

On an impulse, Melody walked over to Malcolm and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Softly she sang to him, "It's all right Malcolm, the sadness will pass. Time moves swiftly and we'll soon be back."

Malcolm looked up at her for long moments, his eyes wide in wonder. "Melody," he finally breathed, "What did you do?"

She didn't understand what he meant and glanced at her brother, who wore a puzzled expression on his face. "What do you mean?" she asked turning back to her cousin.

Malcolm's expression was still awe-struck. "When you sang," he said, "I felt it here." He placed a hand to his chest. "And I wasn't mad anymore. I felt… calm."

"Even I felt it, Melody," Farrell said as he came to stand next to her. "I felt…"

"What?" What did you feel?" she asked in alarm.

"It was like when Mama smiles, and you just know everything will be all right," he replied.

"You think I did that?" she asked. "By singing?"

Malcolm said, "I know you did. I felt it pouring into me through your hand on my shoulder."

She looked down at her hand doubtfully. "I didn't mean to do anything," she said. "I just wanted you to feel better, Mal."

"Should we tell someone?" asked Farrell. "Maybe Mama, or Aunt Bethy?"

Melody shook her head, causing her dark hair to fly about her shoulders. "No," she said. "At least not yet."

"Why?" asked Farrell. "Maybe they'll know something…"

"No," she repeated. "They're all watching everything we do. I don't want them worrying more."

"Try it again, Melody," suggested Malcolm.

"Try what? I don't know what I did."

Farrell said, "You sang and you wanted Mal not to be sad anymore. Try singing to make him laugh."

Melody thought for a moment then asked her brother, "Should I touch him again?"

Farrell nodded.

She placed her hand on the same spot on Malcolm's shoulder, and a smile graced her pretty face as she thought how much she wanted her cousin to be happy and laughing. It was a true wish, and because of that the words came easily to her mind. "If you were a pig with wings you could fly, and laugh at the clouds as they're racing by."

First Malcolm began to grin and Melody watched as he struggled to keep a straight face. He lost the battle and burst out laughing. A quick glance at her brother showed her he was smiling, too – not a usual thing for Farrell.

When Mal finally swallowed back his laughter, he asked her, "Are you sure you're not a mage?"

Farrell answered for her. "We were both tested by the Templars before we began classes at the Circle," he said. "We were pronounced  _clean_ ," he added sarcastically, sounding very much like his father.

Malcolm frowned then. "Even here the Templars are still afraid of us." He paused thoughtfully before adding, "Do you think it might be something elfish?"

Melody giggled.  _Elfish_?

"I don't know," answered Farrell seriously, "but I hope we find out." He laid a hand on Melody's arm. "In the meantime, be careful with your singing, sister."

"I will," she replied, but in her mind she was already thinking of how useful this new talent might be.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

After much debate, it was settled that they would take the sea route to Cumberland and then journey on foot to the edge of the Planasene Forest in search of Merrill's clan. The overland route would not only be much more dangerous, but would also require them to carry all of their food and other perishables for many weeks. By taking the barge to Wycome and then from there board a ship that would carry them on to Cumberland, they could wait until they were in the latter city before purchasing what they needed for a trek into the wilderness.

Hawke sighed. There remained an awful lot to pack. Open satchels and leather backpacks surrounded her as she did her best to be ready for every contingency, while still allowing them to carry what they'd need on their backs. It was a tricky business.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Fenris walked into the bedroom to find Hawke on her knees before her battered old trunk, searching through its contents. The scene made him smile as he remembered that day they'd been searching the Amell Estate and he'd walked in on Hawke in this same position, her hips swaying with her efforts.

"I like the view," he growled as he had once before.

Hawke smiled at him over her shoulder. "I aim to please," she replied just as she'd done those many years ago.

"What are you looking for?" he asked, approaching his wife.

"Do you remember that belt I always wore? The one with the rune Sandal made for me?"

Fenris knelt down beside her and ran a hand down her back. "I believe you left it at the lodge," he said.

Hawke sighed and rocked back on her heels. "Of course I did," she said ruefully.

Fenris lifted a hand and brushed her hair back from her face. "You need a break," he told her seriously and was gratified by the way Hawke so naturally leaned into his hand.

"There's still so much to do," she said, but her eyelids fluttered shut as he continued to caress her cheek.

"I will help you," he said, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her lips, "later." As he lifted his head, Hawke's mouth followed his making him smile. Gently, he took her by the waist and positioned her so that they knelt before each other. His hands began to work at the ties on her blouse as his lips descended to hers again. The soft mew that escaped her lips, the taste of his Hawke, all quickly began to inflame his senses. Too quickly, because he knew they would have very little time alone in the coming months and he wanted to savor her like a fine wine.

The silky skin revealed by his efforts and the soft swell of her breasts beneath his fingers were a further trial to his control. He marveled again that in all the years they'd been together, this had never changed. Their passion lit with the smallest spark – a touch, a kiss – sometimes simply a look – and he wanted her as much or more than he ever did.

As he deepened the kiss and explored her mouth with great care, Hawke's hand went to the nape of his neck and began to gently tug at stray strands of his hair, sending shivers down his spine. She knew exactly what to do to set him on fire, he thought, but he had a few tricks up his own sleeve. He pushed her blouse off her shoulders and with a great effort of will release her mouth and trailed kisses down her jaw and neck until he reached the pulse at the base of her throat. In that tender spot he put all of his considerable skill, nipping and laving the skin with his teeth and his tongue until he felt her shiver.

"Fenris," she sighed his name as her hands traveled down his back to grasp the hem of his tunic. Cool air hit his heated skin as she pulled at the cloth and he lifted his head just long enough for her to pull the shirt off him. Their eyes met and held for the space of a heartbeat before his mouth descended on hers again. For countless moments he was lost in the kiss, aware of nothing else but their sweet explorations, and Hawke's soft moans urging him on. Tricky wife - he returned to his senses as her hands began to work at the clasp of his pants and he chuckled low in his throat.

With the grace and ease that had always been his, he was on his feet with his squirming wife in his arms in the space of a breath.

"Not fair," she mock-complained as her fingers continued to reach for him. He laid her on the bed and captured her wrists in one hand while his other hand ran up the length of her ribs and to the sensitive peaks of her arousal. Hawke's back arched to meet his mouth as he began to taste her in earnest. She, of course, freed her hands easily and her fingers dug into his scalp as she whispered her love for him in sweet, dulcet tones.

When his own hands smoothed down the length of her body and beneath her loose cotton pants to find the warm center of her, he felt his control begin to slip. A growl tore from his throat as he rid her of the interfering clothing and this time when her hands went to the tie at his waist he did not stop her. Soon he was poised above her and their gazes locked, her desire fracturing the light in her eyes into myriad shades of the deepest green.

"Come to me Fenris, my love," she said, her lips curved in a sultry smile. "I want you."

He could never deny his Hawke anything, and all thoughts of control fled as her heat enveloped him. As they moved together - tasting and touching with as much fervor as if it were their first time, or perhaps as if it were their last – they slipped into that place where the two lovers became one and nothing else remained in all of existence.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

_Several days later…_

Even though she preferred a life on the water, this barge with its slow progress up the river was making Isabela antsy. The tree-dotted hills crawled by, the scenery barely changing as one day bled into the next. She could have walked to Wycome faster than this.

Truth be told, she'd been feeling restless for quite awhile now and was filled with anticipation for the adventures awaiting her. Just the thought of doing something other than making trade deals between the cities, or filling out invoices and inventories made her blood sing. As much as she truly loved Pardus, the life he led was not what she would have chosen for herself. She missed the days in Kirkwall where one crisis followed the next in a never-ending series of challenges – challenges she had once thrived on, using her skill and her blades to take up the good fight at Hawke's side.

This trip was just what she needed, but she still wished the barge would move a little faster.

"What are you thinking, love?" Pardus asked as he came to stand beside her at the railing. He lifted a hand and smoothed the line of worry between her eyes.

"I'm thinking I can't wait to get off this blasted barge and onto the open sea," she said, trying to keep her tone light. But she could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn't buy it. He knew her too well.

"My lovely pirate is missing her days of adventure," he told her with a smile. "This is no new thing. You've been agitated for months."

Leave it to Pardus to strike to the heart of the matter. She sighed. "I'm not ungrateful," she said. "We have a good life. It's just that it's all so… so tame."

"I think your lust for blood will probably have a chance to fulfill its need soon enough," he told her.

"Demon trees?" she quipped.

"The Planasene has a reputation for being very dangerous, indeed," he said with a laugh.

"Then I can't wait to get there," she replied. "And it will good to see Merrill again."

They stood quietly for long moments, watching the water sludge by in slow, long waves. Finally, Pardus spoke again. "You know," he said, "We've amassed a good deal of coin these past years."

Isabela nodded. "It's funny how little that means, though."

"We could sell out, you know," he added. "Take the money and run, if you will."

Isabela felt her heart lift at his words. "But it's been your family's business for generations, sweet thing. Surely you don't…"

"My cousin Census has been after me for years to take over," he said. "Perhaps it's time to hand him the reins."

"You would really…?" Isabela found she couldn't finish the sentence through the sudden tightness in her throat.

"Of course I would," he replied with a grin. "I find I'm growing bored wrangling with fat merchants."

Isabela leapt from the deck and onto Pardus, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist. "Oh you are just the best," she said before her mouth descended to his.

A loud throat clearing from behind them interrupted them too soon. Isabela lifted her head and glared at the dwarf standing there. "Bad timing, Varric," she said.

Varric chuckled. "Well, Rivaini, you didn't exactly pick a private place to… um, you know."

Isabela looked back at Pardus. "I do know," she said with a saucy smile.

"I just thought you'd want to have a look," Varric continued.

"Look at what?" she asked impatiently.

Varric lifted a hand in the direction of the bow of the barge, and when Isabela looked where he pointed, she saw the vague outlines of a city far in the distance, and beyond that, the darker water of the open sea.

Isabela's laughter rose from her chest in such delight, everyone on deck who hadn't already been watching the two rogues were suddenly peering in their direction. "It's about time!" she shouted happily.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Zevran was leaning against the wall in the shadows at the mouth of an alley. The long trip from Antiva to Ferelden was weighing down his normally exuberant spirits. He thought it was probably the distasteful prospect of traveling so far all alone. For many months he'd been on the move, inserting himself into whatever trouble he could find, and there was plenty of trouble to be had just about everywhere he went. Now it was his need for companionship that had him moving south. In Denerim there were plenty of friends to enjoy. Friends he'd made fighting the blight with the dear Warden. Not one to be maudlin, Zevran surprised himself with a sigh of longing. First the Warden and then the Champion – two women he thought perhaps he could have given his heart to – two women who fell in love with men who were not him. He wondered if it were his fate to be forever a stag and never a mate.

Now here he was stuck in this wretched city, waiting until he could board the ship that would carry him to Denerim. Wycome was barely above a cesspool in his opinion. The smell and stink of rotting food and open sewers were an offense to his sensibilities. Even the whores in this town did not have the proper smell, and he could not bring himself to partake of their wares. He could only be glad that his ship left on the morrow.

Something bright and lovely penetrated his unusually dark thoughts. Laughter: The tinkling, sweet laughter of a young girl. His heart nearly burst within his chest as he recognized the sweet sound.

He stepped from the shadows just as several well-loved faces came into his vision. The source of that laughter saw him at the same time he picked her from the crowd, and she squealed in delight and began to run toward him.

Zevran laughed his hearty laugh and opened his arms just in time for his beautiful Melody to lock her arms around his neck in a choking hug. Suddenly, Wycome was a lovely city, indeed.

 


	5. Chapter 5

As Zevran walked up the plank to board the ship  _Garahel's Victory_ , he could hardly believe the amazingly good turn his fortunes had taken. Instead of spending another night in the wretched city of Wycome, he was instead surrounded by many of his favorite people about to embark on a tantalizing adventure. What could be better?

Barely had the words "Will you join us?" escaped Hawke's perfect lips before he had replied, "I would be my honor, my dearest Hawke." Melody's squeal of delight had only added to his pleasure, and after the heartfelt "Thank you," he'd received from Fenris, he'd decided that fate had certainly smiled upon his decision to travel south.

It had been extremely interesting to meet the man who had finally tamed his friend and bawdy pirate wench, Isabela - the very tall, very handsome man who had done so. He truly had never believed his saucy friend would ever confine her bedroom fun to a single person of any persuasion. But, and this was the thing he envied her, she was obviously in love. Curiosity burned in his breast - what must that must be like? As the years passed he became more and more doubtful he would ever experience it for himself.

It also seemed the dwarf Varric was now a permanent fixture in the Hawke household. He may have considered such a commitment himself if not for the desires of his heart. He was doubtful, yes, but he had not yet given up hope. He may yet find her – or him – probably her, because he was awfully fond of breasts.

Hawke's final companion was another tall human, though this one not nearly as friendly and open as Isabela's Pardus. In fact, not friendly or open in any way at all. The man had spoken no more than a brief, "How do you do?" hours ago when they'd been introduced. Perhaps he was merely a hired guard, thought Zevran. No matter, if Hawke trusted him around her precious children, he would waste no concern over him.

The sun was setting as  _Garahel's Victory_ finally pulled away from the docks. Zevran would be very interested to hear the full tale of why Hawke was off to brave the wilds of the Planasene Forest to find this Dalish clan.

Idly, we wondered if there would be any pretty females among the clan. Elvhen women did not have very large breasts, to be sure, but he knew from experience just how very sensitive they were.

"Zevran!" Melody sang, interrupting his thoughts. She waved to him from her perch atop her father's shoulders. "Come and see! Dolphins!"

"But of course, my dear Melody," he replied. Yes, he thought as he went to join them at the railing, fortune had most assuredly smiled upon him.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Hawke did her best to relax and enjoy herself as the ship carried them south through the Amaranthine Ocean and into the Waking Sea. Fortunately they were past the worst of the season's storms, but it was a chill wind that blew above deck, a herald of the winter that would soon be upon them. She continually marveled at her husband's apparent immunity to the effects of the weather. He seemed just as comfortable as if it were a pleasant springtime afternoon, while she was already wearing her fur-lined winter cloak.

The twins had spent so much time aboard ship growing up that she at least did not have to worry over their safety. They well knew the boundaries set for them, and although Melody still loved to watch the water rushing by as the ship plowed through the waves, she did so with her feet firmly planted on the deck, much to Hawke's relief. In fact, the twins were spending most of their time with Varric and Zevran, who seemed to be in an odd competition over who was the better surrogate uncle. Varric certainly had the advantage of time spent with Melody and Farrell, but Zevran's charm gave him a distinct edge when it came to winning the game. Zevran, in fact, was spending quite a lot of time teaching Melody the art of dagger throwing. They'd set up a target in the ship's hold where they could practice after losing two practice knives to the sea above decks.

Only a few more days and their true journey would begin. Hawke took a deep breath to settle her nerves. They'd never before taken their children outside of the safety of civilization, and she could only trust that their training would see them in good stead. Her mother's heart was her most vulnerable place, and she knew it was the same for Fenris when it came to Melody and Farrell. That they could not always protect their children and keep them from harm was a constant hum of anxiety in her breast – one that she did her best to keep to herself. For that reason if for no other she was filled with gratitude for the two uncles who were continuing to train the twins, even as the time rapidly approached when everything they'd been taught would be put to the test.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

It was full dark and Fenris stood alone at the railing, watching as the moon caste diamonds of light upon the sea. By morning they would be in Cumberland. Hawke was below decks putting the twins to bed – now a long, involved process equipping them with the armor and weapons they might need in the Fade. So far those precautions had not been necessary, thankfully, but who could know when that would prove otherwise? Certainly not him, much to his increasing frustration. Of course Hawke had noticed his obvious restlessness and sent him off to "get some air." Between his lingering fear for his children's safety while they slept, and his increasing trepidation over living among the elves for the winter, he had to admit his mood had been rather… mercurial ever since they'd boarded the barge in Starkhaven. Varric had even reverted to calling him  _Broody_  again. He didn't know if "air" would do him good, but he was willing to try.

When he heard footsteps on the deck, he turned and was surprised to see Donnic approaching him. The man had been keeping very much to himself for the entire journey, and although Donnic had always been the quiet sort, it was unusual that he'd also turned down Fenris' repeated offers to play Diamondback in order to pass the time.

"Fenris," said Donnic as he came to stand beside him.

"Donnic," Fenris replied, and then could think of nothing else to say.

The two stood there in silence for a long while, watching the moon and the sea, listening to the ship sluice through the water, feeling the cold, salty breeze on their skin. In truth, Fenris enjoyed someone who didn't need to fill every minute with inane conversation, but this was no normal silence. He could feel the tension radiating off his friend in waves.

Fenris could hardly believe it himself when he asked, "Might I ask, is there something troubling you, my friend?"

"That obvious, is it?" asked Donnic in turn.

"Actually, yes," said Fenris. "But if you do not wish to discuss it…"

Donnic sighed. "I don't know what to say, really, except that I've been wondering if I made a mistake coming on on this trip."

Fenris was torn between asking him why he felt his decision to accompany them might be a mistake, and suggesting that he might catch a ship back to Wycome if he wanted to return home. He was silent long enough that Donnic spoke again.

"It's Aveline," said Donnic.

His thought so preoccupied with his own troubles, Fenris had no idea what Donnic meant. "Is she unwell?" asked Fenris. That would certainly explain his regret in leaving her.

"She is well, I suppose," Donnic replied. When Fenris remained silent, Donnic added. "Before I left, we'd been… fighting a lot."

Thoroughly confused, Fenris had heard of no trouble in Starkhaven, but even if there were, wouldn't that be the duty of soldiers and guards to fight? "I'm not sure I understand you," Fenris said. "Who have you been fighting?"

Donnic laughed. "I'm sorry. I believe I began in the middle of the story. We've been fighting each other."

"You've been sparring?" asked Fenris. He and Hawke often trained together, not only because it kept their skills honed, but also because they enjoyed it. The addition of the children to their sparring had only increased the pleasure of it.

Donnic looked at him, a puzzled expression on his face. "Don't you and Hawke ever fight?" he asked.

"Several times a week," Fenris explained. "How else would we keep our skills honed?"

"No, not  _fighting_  in that sense. I meant  _arguing_ ," said Donnic said somewhat impatiently.

"Pardon me," said Fenris. "I did not understand you." He thought back to the times he had argued with Hawke, mostly over mages and magic, and mostly he was at fault for being rigid or tainted by the fears of his past. Even their most recent "argument" if you could call it that, had been because he'd been terrified about the twins meeting Anders in the Fade. But Hawke did not really argue. He doubted she'd ever acquired the skill, so he was curious as to what Donnic and Aveline would have to argue about. Surely they had much in so much in common they must agree on most things? "Do you want to talk about it?" he finally asked.

"You nicely evaded my question about you and Hawke," said Donnic and a small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Hawke is not the type to… argue," Fenris replied. Donnic had known her many years. He should understand.

"True," said Donnic. "She is a master of persuasion."

Fenris only nodded his head in acquiescence.

"Aveline, however, is the queen of argument. She thrives on it, I think," Donnic admitted sadly. "She gets something set in her head and then she holds onto like a dwarf holds onto his gold."

Fenris looked around them, glad to see Varric nowhere about. "What has she  _set_  in her head?" asked Fenris, curious now.

Donnic looked at Fenris thoughtfully for a moment before saying. "This would be in confidence."

"Of course," agreed Fenris. It never occurred to him that he would not tell Hawke, however, as she was in his own confidence to such a degree he could not separate hers from his own.

Donnic turned his back to the sea, leaned against the railing and folded his arms over his chest. "It really began around the time Malcolm was born," he said.

"My nephew?" asked Fenris.

"Yes," Donnic said. "About that time Aveline decided that we should have a child, as well."

"Aveline decided," repeated Fenris.

"I see you noticed the omission," said Donnic. "I was not opposed to the idea, but neither did I have a burning desire for children." He shook his head. "My only concern was to make my wife happy."

"Understandable," remarked Fenris. "And yet there is no child."

"Exactly," agreed Donnic.

"Did Aveline change her mind?" he asked.

Donnic's brow lifted. "No, she did not," he said and there was a hint of anger in his voice. "The child simply never came."

"I see," he said. He knew that not every woman could bear children. Truthfully, his own children had been entirely unexpected, but since their birth he could not imagine living without them. He felt a surge of sympathy for Aveline, and he added, "That must be difficult for her."

"That is much how I felt for many years," said Donnic. "But lately…"

"Lately?" Fenris prompted.

"She will not let it go," he said, the frustration clear in his voice. "Every month is a disaster as her bleeding returns, and she is devastated all over again."

"Perhaps she should accept that it is not to be," said Fenris.

"If only she would," said Donnic. "But she will not see reason. She has grown more and more bitter with each passing year until… until I could stand it no longer."

Fenris thought he understood now. "And you chose to come with us to get away from her."

Donnic winced, and Fenris wondered if he'd been wrong after all, until he continued, "When you put it that way, I appear a horrible husband."

Wanting to ease his friend's distress, Fenris said, "I am sure you tried your best to help her see reason."

Donnic's shoulder's slumped. "I did. For years I did my best to be patient. To reassure her that she was all I needed, that I was happy with our life…"

"I am certainly not qualified to judge your situation," said Fenris, "but perhaps the time apart will bring some clarity to you both."

"I hope it does," said Donnic, "But I fear it may destroy what little we had left."

"If I can help you in any way…" Fenris began.

Donnic laid a hand on his arm. "You already have, my friend. Even talking about it, well, it's good to get it off my chest." He gave a rueful laugh. "I suppose I will go on as I have begun."

Fenris nodded, but his thoughts were already on his own wife waiting for him in their cabin. He did not know if he had really helped Donnic, but he did know that his heart was once again filled with gratitude for his own Hawke.

**FROM THE JOURNAL OF VARRIC TETHRAS**

Cumberland was just as boring as I'd remembered, but maybe if I'd known what was coming, I would have tried to enjoy it more. We were only there two days – long enough to purchase the supplies we needed and meet with Ash'arell, Merrill's contact in the alienage. What was weird was that there were only about a dozen elves living there. Truth to tell, the whole city was rather sparsely populated.

Ash'arell gave us a map, but it was the most convoluted looking thing I'd ever seen. Hawke told me not to worry, that the Planasene Forest was to the east and as long as we didn't stray far from the coast, we'd eventually find it. What was worrying Hawke was that we didn't have a healer with us and we weren't able to buy as many potions in Cumberland as she had hoped. Even the Circle couldn't help us. The First Enchanter there, Granwell was her name I think, mumbled vaguely about ingredients being difficult to find.

"This is my fault," said Hawke as we were putting the finishing touches on the packing. "I should have brought more with us."

"How could you have known that Cumberland would be on the verge of extinction?" I joked, but she didn't laugh.

"We could delay our departure," suggested Pardus. "Send back to Kirkwall or Val Chevin for what we need." Ever the merchant, that one.

Even the mention of Hawke's former home set her even further on edge. "No," she said, "We'll be all right once we get to Merrill."

But the frown on Fenris' face pretty much summed up how I felt about the whole thing.

North of Cumberland The Imperial Highway forked – west would take you to Val Chevin, and north to Nevarra – but there was also a unfinished remnant of the highway that stretched to the east toward the Planasene Forest - that was the only good information we got from Ash'arell's map. Otherwise, the thing was worthless. So even though it was a bit out of our way, we took to the highway and followed it south toward the coast until it bent sharply to the east. That first morning passed without incident.

Hmph. Perhaps I should remind you who was in our party. Hawke, Fenris and the twins, of course. There was also, me, Rivaini and Pardus, Donnic and our newest, unexpected addition, elf number two. Apparently Zevran had been on his way to Denerim when we met him in Wycome, but changed his plans without a qualm when he heard what we were up to. Personally I was glad for the addition – I think we all were - and the way things turned out… well, I'm jumping ahead in the story here, hehe.

Late in the afternoon, we'd stopped for a rest and a bite to eat. The further east we traveled, the less obvious the highway was; it was so overgrown with weeds and bracken. Our first clue that something was amiss, if only we'd known it, was how quiet my little Sparrow had become. All morning long there had been birds flying and chattering about our party – wrens and buntings and a few early winter nuthatches – attracted to my girl as they always were. During our meal, however, things had become eerily quiet. Hawke finally did notice, and as we were gathering our gear to continue on, I heard her asked Sparrow, "Are you feeling well, darling?"

She smiled at her mother, but I could tell it was forced. "I'm fine," she softly sang, but I don't think Hawke believed her and neither did I.

Not much later, we crested a hill and could see the crumbling remains of an old fort nestled in the small valley alongside the road. Something about the look of it had Bianca feeling twitchy, and I think Fenris must have felt something too, because after a shared look with Hawke, we rearranged things so we surrounded the twins on all sides. I noticed, too, that without a word spoken, everyone suddenly had their hands on their weapons. Even Farrell pulled Valora into his arms and was looking about him, as if he were straining to hear something far away.

Before I continue on with the story, perhaps a bit of background would help here. The legend and lore of the Planasene Forest is that there was once a tear in the Veil there. Probably still is, because it's my understanding that they can't be fixed. Well, except I've heard that some Grey Wardens can do it. But, from my newly gained knowledge (stuff I never wanted to know, but considering what's been happening with the twins and the Fade, I thought I should learn) the theory is that Veil Tears only happen in places where there have been massive deaths or huge amounts of magic are used. That's what was always so freaky about the Bone Pits – so many slaves died there, it was a cursed, haunted place and you could feel it, well, in your bones.

As we approached the ruins, Fenris said from behind me, "This place is cursed." And then, my friends, before I could even take a full breath, the ground beneath us began to erupt with Shades and reanimated corpses poured out of the ruined fort.

We had a plan in case we were attacked, of course, but the plan did not include demons sluicing up through the ground in the midst of us. We were thinking more along the lines of highwaymen or slavers attacking us. For quite a while I was too busy to do more than fight off the shades that had suddenly surrounded me. I hate it when I have to fight at close range and use Bianca as a club. It's beneath her dignity. Finally I was able to climb upon a pile of rubble and get a better vantage. That's when my heart sank. Hawke, Fenris and the kids were cut off from the others. I let loose a volley of arrows in the area right in front of them, and took out a portion of the corpses that were attacking, but it hardly made a dent.

Truthfully, I was completely terrified and absolutely impressed at the same time. You've heard me marvel over the way Hawke and her elf fight together, like they are one person in two bodies. Well, their training with Melody and Farrell had certainly paid off, because those kids were weaving and darting with their parents like they were born doing it. Valora was on Farrell's back, useless to him fighting in such close quarters, but both of them had their long, skinny daggers in their hands and I watched as Fenris (all lit up like a Wintersend tree) ducked and Melody hopped on his back and shoved her dagger in the face of a corpse. Then Hawke was reaching for her daughter, who used the balance of her mother's arm to tumble through the air and land next to her brother, where they did a pretty good job of taking the legs out from under the nasty skeletons.

That's when three rage demons rose from the ground right in the middle of them. After that, I had to return my attention to the corpses climbing my rubble heap, and Bianca and I were busy for quite awhile. I could hear Isabela shouting something, and caught a glimpse of Zevran carving his way into the demons and corpses that surrounded the Hawkes, but it wasn't until much later that the results of the attack were known to me.

We were all exhausted, covered in ichor and gore, and at first I was just relieved it was over. Until I saw Farrell's prostrate form on the ground with his mother curved over him like a bow trying to get a healing potion into his mouth. Hard to do when someone is unconscious. Fenris had Melody in his arms as she sobbed against his chest and the rest of us made our way to them.

Turns out one of those nasty skeletons had taken a swing at Farrell, and if not for Zevran's quick interference, the boy might have given up the ghost then and there.

Farrell had a long gash along his thigh and had lost quite a lot of blood. Hawke's face was a white mask. It reminded me of that night her elf had stumbled into the Hanged Man after fighting off a Carta attack all by himself. But she wasn't crying and it was Zevran who finally knelt next to her and worked at opening junior's mouth so she could get the potion into him. After what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes, the bleeding stopped and Farrell's eyelids began to flutter. He let out a groan, obviously in pain, and suddenly my little Sparrow was wriggling out of her father's arms to get to her brother.

And then the strangest thing happened. Melody put a hand on her brother's forehead and began to sing to him. Her voice was barely audible, and I couldn't make out the words, but the pain cleared from Farrell's face almost immediately. I didn't find out until much later what that was about, but for now I'll just finish this part of the story.

Between the potions and some skillful bandaging on Rivaini's part, Farrell was out of danger, but there was no way he could walk on that leg until he we could get him some actual healing. Fenris, of course, insisted on carrying his son, and would allow no one else to do so.

For two more days we trudged along that broken highway, and we were attacked three more times, though it was never as bad as at the ruined fort. Farrell held his own, and Melody sang to him often. Whatever she was doing seemed to ease his pain considerably.

When I first saw the aravels in the distance, swaying in the breeze – well, it was like that day we finally found our way out of the Deep Roads, so huge was my relief. And it is from inside one of those aravels that I have sat and written out this part of our journey. Truthfully, I'm pretty worn out at this point, but I wanted to get the details down while they were still clear in my mind. I wouldn't call myself fond of being in nature exactly, but being here with Merrill's clan, well, for now at least it feels like a little slice of heaven.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

The Dalish camp was… lovely. After three days on the road and with her son badly injured for most of the way, Hawke thought that she had never been so glad to be anyplace in her life. The first order of business had been to attend to Farrell's leg, and she hated to admit that she was glad the clan included a designated healer that was  _not_  Merrill. Hawke remembered too well Bethany's failed attempts to teach Merrill healing magic. The Dalish healer was an older, grey-haired elf named Danora, who reminded Hawke quite a lot of Keeper Marethari.

As she'd been introduced to the thirty-odd elves that comprised the  _Revas_  Clan, it had been odd to hear them all refer to her friend as Keeper Merrill or simply the Keeper. The only other names she remembered were Merrill's first, Cúel, and a rather tall, sullen faced young elf named Erynon. Cúel was like a mirror image of Merrill; blond and fair with eyes the blue of a summer sky at noon and so quietly composed that Hawke could hardly believe she was training for a position of authority. Erynon she could not forget because of the censoring frown he wore upon his face as he gazed at them all with seeming contempt. She had to admit, however, that he was a very attractive young man with his shock of auburn hair and peridot eyes, and was surprised to find out later than he was not yet fourteen years old. She would have thought him twenty at least.

Merrill was no longer the timid, innocent (if deluded) girl that Hawke had first brought to Kirkwall, though she still tended toward the literal.

"Thank you for housing us for the winter, Merrill," Hawke had said to her as the Keeper had led them to an aravel set aside for her family.

"Oh, Hawke," said Merrill with obvious distress on her face, "I hope you're not disappointed then, because we have no houses. There are only the aravels and a few tents."

Sweet, silly Merrill. The final thing she was glad to notice at their reunion was that the scars on her friend's arms had faded to barely discernable thin, pale lines on her wrists and forearms. Hawke could see no evidence of recent scarring at all, much to her relief. In the morning after everyone was rested from the arduous journey, they were to gather together for a council and would discuss the situation with Melody and Farrell, the Dread Wolf and the Fade. Hawke hoped to finally get some answers.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Even though she'd been Keeper of her clan for nearly a decade, Merrill was still nervous as everyone gathered for the council. Truly, she wanted to appear competent and wise in front of her old friends, but she found their presence bringing up many of the old insecurities from her days in Kirkwall. Funny how the past would never quite stay where it belonged, forever bleeding into the present moment, bringing with it old issues long thought resolved. It had been a arduous struggle and a constant battle to get where she was now. Perhaps it was because of her long association with the Pride Demon who'd promised to help her fix the Eluvian, but for years afterward each night as she slept other demons of his ilk would come to her, tempting her with promises of saving her people. If not for Hawke's strong belief in her, Merrill didn't know if she would have resisted the temptations of those years. But she had, and now perhaps the scent of demon was no longer on her, because her nightly journeys to the Fade had ceased to be a constant torment.

It wasn't that she was no longer determined to save the Elvhen people, it was only that now she was willing to take the daily small steps to make it so. She had learned patience, which she had integrated with her strong determination. And her clan had made great strides in learning more of the fall of Arlathan, the loss of their gods and the power and magic that was once their birthright. She had found that once she stopped using blood magic and her mana gradually strengthened and increased over the years, that she was in actuality a more powerful mage than she had been. Merrill glanced over at her First, Cúel, and a soft smile formed on her lips. Cúel was the most talented spellcrafter Merrill had ever seen, and her ability to create spells to meet the needs of nearly any situation had been more than helpful in creating and prospering as a new clan.

 _Revas Clan_ , she thought. Revas was the Elvhen word for  _freedom_ , and that had been their main goal from the first – to live as a free people. Little by little, step by step, they grew stronger and she truly believed she had gathered to herself some of the most talented and dedicated Elvhen in all of Thedas.

The air was decidedly chill this morning, so she'd ordered the fire circle lit and makeshift wooden benches placed around the perimeter. Her eyes traveled around the circle, resting upon each person gathered. To her right were Hawke and Fenris with Melody and Farrell pressed tightly between them. Even though as a rule children born of a human and Elvhen matings were said to be born entirely human, Merrill did not believe that to be true in this case. Both of them had the  _feel_  of their Elvhen heritage, but Farrell especially had the look of his father. If not for his ridiculously small ears, she would have taken him for an elf child on sight.

As her eyes rested on Varric, he winked at her making her giggle. Was it inappropriate for a Keeper to giggle? she wondered, then decided she didn't care because seeing her old friend made her so happy. Each time Varric called her  _Daisy_ , she felt her heart lift with remembered fondness.

Her wandering gaze stopped abruptly as she looked at Erynon staring angrily in the direction of Hawke's family. He'd always been a troubled child since they'd rescued him at six from the alienage in Ansburg. Both of his parents had been killed in an uprising, and he'd been huddled alone and half starved behind a barrel in a back alley. Ever since he'd entered adolescence, his troubled emotional state had been manifesting more and more. And yet for all his youth, he was an extremely skilled Ranger. Fortunately he was most happy alone in the wilds, tracking for the clan and finding the paths that would lead them through the wilderness. Still, she did not care for the way he was staring at Hawke's family with such obvious hostility. Merrill made a mental note to speak to him later, especially since from everything she had learned about Hawke's children, he would be integral in training Melody.

There was only one person in the gathered company that she had never met before – the Antivan elf, Zevran. She hadn't been with Hawke when they'd met in Kirkwall, and now she noticed where his own interested gaze was focused – on her First. He seemed to be studying Cúel quite intently and Merrill made another mental note to give Cúel a word of warning about his reputation as quite the philanderer.

It was past time that she should begin, so Merrill rose to her feet and addressed her clan and her friends as, she hoped, was befitting a Keeper.

"I have called this council of Elvhen, humans and dwarf," she said and nodded at Varric with the last, "in order to address the appearance of Fen'Harel in the dreams of Melody and Farrell Hawke." All eyes shifted to the twins.

She then went on to give an account of the dream in which the Dread Wolf had come to the children – of how Melody and Farrell had met Fen'Harel in the Fade at the pillars of three standing stones. She read from the letter Hawke had written to her:

_"The daughter of the wolf and the hawk," the Dread Wolf said. "Where is the son, I wonder?"_

_"Farrell?" Melody asked._

_"Melody!" Farrell said and pushed through the trees and came to stand beside her._

_She grasped his hand tightly and said, "Where are we Farrell?"_

_"In the Fade," he began but the voice of the wolf spoke again, interrupting him._

_"As it should be, the son and the daughter together," it said._

_"Why are we here?" asked Farrell. His voice was strong. "Are you a demon?"_

_A low growling chuckle sounded. "I am no demon," he said. "I am Fen'Harel."_

_"Who?" asked Melody._

_Farrell squeezed her hand and said, "The Dread Wolf."_

_"Yes," said Fen'Harel, "I have been called by that name." The wolf rose and took a step toward them. "You ask me why you are here? I ask you, why were you were born?"_

_"That's not an answer," said Farrell impatiently._

_"The answer to both questions is the same," said Fen'Harel._

_Melody asked, "If you know the answer, why don't you tell us?"_

_The wolf bared his teeth. "Clever girl," he said. "The answer is simple: Because it was fated."_

_"And you know everyone's fate?" Farrell asked with a frown._

_Fen'Harel laughed. "I am a god."_

_"You are the Trickster," said Farrell. "Why should we believe anything you say?"_

_The wolf's eyes burst into blue flame and once again he bared his teeth in a snarl. "You shouldn't," he replied._

_"Then what's the point?" asked Melody in her singsong voice. "Why bring us here?"_

_"Have I brought you here?" Fen'Harel mused. "Or is some other power at work?"_

_"If you have something to say, out with it," Farrell demanded._

_Fen'Harel was silent for long moments._

_"Perhaps it is as your sister said. Perhaps there is no point," Fen'Harel growled. "Or perhaps the fate of the world rests in your hands." The wolf sat back on its haunches. "Perhaps both," he finished with an apparent shrug._

_The air around them began to shift and shimmer._

_"Time will reveal and time will obscure," Fen'Harel's voice was fading as he spoke and was beginning to sound as if it came from down a deep well. "The children of the hawk and the wolf will stand forth..."_

There were murmurs and gasps among those gathered as she finished. Merrill held up her hand.

"There is a saying among the People," she said, "May the Dread Wolf never catch your scent." There were murmurs of agreement as she continued. "And now we find that Fen'Harel has indeed caught the scent of these two young, half-elvhen children, and so we gather together to bring council and aid as we can."

Merrill cleared her throat and went on. "I believe it necessary to recount the tale of the loss of our gods, if briefly," she said, "for those who are unfamiliar with the tale, and also to remind us all of what this dream might mean not only for the Elvhen but also for all of Thedas."

"Long ago, when time itself was young, the only things in existence were the sun and the land. The sun, curious about the land, bowed his head close to her body, and Elgar'nan was born in the place where they touched. As a gift to Elgar'nan, the land brought forth great birds and beasts of sky and forest, and all manner of wonderful green things. He was the first of the elven gods, born of the sun and the earth.

"The sun grew jealous of the favor shown by Elgar'nan for the things of the earth, and so burned them to ashes. In retaliation, Elgar'nan threw the sun down from the sky. It was at this moment that Mythal walked out of the sea of the Earth's tears and onto the land. She placed her hand on Elgar'nan's brow, and at her touch he grew calm and knew that his anger had led him astray.

"In ancient times, the People were ageless and eternal, and instead of dying would enter uthenera-the long sleep-and walk the shifting paths beyond the Veil with Falon'Din and his brother Dirthamen. Those elders would learn the secrets of dreams, and some returned to the People with newfound knowledge.

"Only Fen'Harel could walk without fear among both our gods and the Forgotten Ones, for although he is kin to the gods of the People, the Forgotten Ones knew of his cunning ways and saw him as one of their own. That is how Fen'Harel tricked them. Our gods saw him as a brother, and they trusted him when he said that they must keep to the heavens while he arranged a truce. The Forgotten Ones trusted him as well when he promised he would arrange for the defeat of our gods, if only the Forgotten Ones would return to the abyss for a time. They trusted Fen'Harel, and they were all of them betrayed. Fen'Harel sealed them away so they could never again walk among the People.

Only in dreams do we still hear whispered the names of Geldauran and Daern'thal and Anaris, for they are the Forgotten Ones, the gods of terror and malice, spite and pestilence." *

Merrill paused and took a drink from the water skin Cúel immediately handed to her. She saw she had the rapt attention of everyone gathered, and finally felt the last of her apprehension fade away. Her voice was strong as she said, "Ever since the Tevinter Magisters sank Arlathan and we lost our homeland, the Elvhen People have fallen into despair and ruin. If there is a chance to redeem our People, I say we must take it!" Her voice rang with certainty and courage as she continued. "Although Fen'Harel is indeed the Trickster, and whatever information he gives must, therefore, be suspect, it is my belief that Melody and Farrell Hawke are somehow bound to the destiny of the People. If, indeed, the fate of the world may rest in their hands, it is our duty, our honor to aid them in anyway we can."

Merrill watched as one by one the members of her clan stood in support. Hawke and Fenris also stood with the twins and Hawke's clear, melodious voice rang out as she said, "My family thanks you for opening your lives and your hearts to us," and she smiled in that way she has and Merrill felt her spirits soar with new hope.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

As Melody stood with her family, her right hand holding her father's hand, and her left holding Farrell's, she was glad that Farrell always paid such good attention because she had been distracted as Keeper Merrill was speaking about history and gods and stuff. It was the pair of palest green eyes she'd ever seen that had distracted her, and continued to so, even as her mother was thanking the clan. Every now and then those eyes would rest upon her with such a sneering expression that she wanted to run over and sing to him and erase that awful demeanor from his whole face. What was wrong with her that he would look at her in such a way? What had Keeper Merrill called him? Erynon?

The oddest part was that even though he definitely appeared to be a very unpleasant sort of elf, Melody could not stop looking at him. There was something…

She was somewhat startled when Keeper Merrill spoke to her. "There's someone I want you to meet, Da'len," she said. "He's our only Ranger and I think will be able to teach you a lot."

Keeper Merrill led her directly over to the tall boy with the sneering eyes.

"Melody," Merrill said, "This is Erynon."

And when he stuck out his hand, if somewhat begrudgingly, and skin touched skin, Melody felt her whole body start to vibrate as if she'd been hit with one of Malcolm's electricity spells.

Erynon frowned at her even more severely, if that were possible, and quickly released her hand. He looked at Keeper Merrill and said, "She's awfully small, are you sure she can keep up?"

Merrill started to say, "Now Erynon…" but Melody interrupted her.

"Don't worry about me, serah," she said, and with that she lifted her voice in her sparrow song. Nearly a dozen small, brown birds flew up from around the aravels where they had been pecking at the dirt to circle Melody and sing their sparrow songs to her. She smiled triumphantly, but Erynon's frown only deepened. She'd show him who was too small, she thought.

_**Meanwhile in the Heavens…** _

"Why cannot he hear us?" Elgar'nan, Father of all Gods, demanded.

"My love, give him time," Mythal the Protector said, attempting to placate her mate.

"The seal is too well placed," Dirthamen, Keeper of Secrets, replied in exasperation. "The mage hears us, but cannot understand our words."

"There must be a way to break the seal!" Elgar'nan's voice boomed, shaking the heavens.

Sylaise the Hearthkeeper, moved to her father and placed a hand on his arm. "We've made much progress," she said in a soothing tone. "We need only stay with our efforts."

Elgar'nan looked down on her with his stern eyes. "The life of mortals are but fleeting," he replied. "The two are children now, but will be dead and buried soon enough."

"If only the mage were Elvhen," said Falon'Din, Friend of the Dead. Perhaps I could reach him."

"Why bemoan what can never be?" Andruil, the Huntress, asked. Of all the gods of the Dalish, Andruil suffered most. None of her abilities were useful in the heavens – not bow, nor blade - and there was no prey to track.

Ever since they had weakened Fen'Harel's seal, only one of them had made no attempt to speak to the mage. Elgar'nan turned to her now.

"Ghilan'nain, you will lend your voice," Elgar'nan proclaimed.

"I will not," she replied.

Mythal came to stand before the Mother of the Halla. "I do not understand you, Ghilan'nain."

"You have not been mortal," was her only reply.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Not since he had first come to the Fade had he so missed the normal passage of time. No sunrises, no sunsets. No first snowfall or green shoots poking through dark soil. No sleeping or waking or mealtimes.

It wasn't until he'd met Hawke's children that the absence of those things had become a perpetual pain in his breast. Something had changed within him since meeting them. Some new awareness, or perhaps an old awareness reawakened, now had him searching for the sight of them everywhere he wandered. And a new emotion had surfaced with that – a fear that he would never find Melody or Farrell again. He would catch a glimpse of them on the old stone bridge, only to have the scene waver or change as he approached. It felt as if her were being tricked or tested and he did not like it.

The twins had seemed so real. So alive! So familiar. And although he still carried the weight of his regret for his choices in life within him, it was no longer paramount in his heart.

So it was that when he crested the low hill and saw the familiar scene set below him – the stone bridge crossing the rushing stream, for a moment he was paralyzed with fear that it would swim out of focus once again. He rubbed at his eyes and yet the scene remained. His spirits lifted when he noticed the two small figures standing on the bridge, apparently talking in earnest.

Anders began to run. Halfway down the gentle slope, the whispering voices that had faded to a barely noticed murmur began to increase in volume. He slowed his pace and noticed that the closer he came to Melody and Farrell, the louder were the voices. He put his hands to his ears but it made no difference. If it were demons trying to reach him, they would find themselves sorely disappointed. As he continued to make his way to the twins, he felt his heavy languor break and a new sense of purpose fill his heart. He promised himself then and there that the one thing he would make sure of was that no harm would come to Hawke's children.

* * *

 

* From DA Codex entries


	7. Chapter 7

"It's Anders," Farrell said as he watched the mage hurrying down the hill toward them.

"Finally," Melody said, obvious excitement in her voice.

"Be cautious, sister," he told her. "Remember what Mama and Papa said."

"I know," sang Melody, "but I can't help it. I like him."

"You can like him all you want," replied Farrell, "but do not trust him." He remembered how upset Papa had been when they'd first met Anders and he watched the mage with some trepidation.

As he neared, Anders slowed his pace, and Farrell noticed that he winced and touched his ear. "Melody? Farrell? Is it really you?"

Melody giggled. "Of course it's us. Who else would it be?"

But Farrell understood him. "We aren't demons," he replied, and then added, "Why are you talking so loud?"

"Can't you hear it?" Anders asked.

"Hear what?" asked Melody, and she looked around her as if she might find the sound with her eyes.

Anders appeared thoughtful for a moment before he pondered aloud, "I wonder if you can go insane in the Fade?"

Farrell grew impatient. "Explain what you mean," he demanded. He didn't like this talk of sounds no one could hear and going insane.

Anders huffed a breath. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's just that I've been hearing voices – whispering voices – and when I'm with you," he said with a nod in their direction, "it grows much louder."

"Is that why you thought we might be demons?" asked Farrell.

Anders nodded and then smiled. "But I should have known with your fancy robes and weapons, that you are most definitely Hawke's children," he said.

"Can you hear what they're saying?" asked Melody.

"I can't understand them," he said. "And truthfully it's driving me a bit mad." He lifted a hand to his earlobe and tugged.

Melody began to walk toward the mage but Farrell grabbed her arm. "Melody, no," he said.

"But Farrell," she complained, "maybe I can help him."

"Help me what?" asked Anders. "Understand the whispering?" He laughed but quickly sobered when he saw the children's expressions. "You're serious."

Farrell turned to his sister. "No," he said emphatically. "You don't know what could happen."

"Would one of you please explain what you're talking about," Anders said, clearly exasperated.

Farrell looked back at the mage, but kept one hand tightly gripped on his sister's arm. "When Melody sings," he said, "she can… affect people."

"Affect people how?" asked Anders, tugging at his ear again.

Melody chimed in. "If you're angry or upset, I could help you to be calm," she said. "If you're sad, I can make you laugh."

"So what you're saying is," Anders prompted, "you could maybe help me to understand the voices."

Melody nodded, her expression unusually serious.

Farrell began to protest again, but Anders spoke first. "No," he said. "Absolutely not. It could be demon voices. It's not worth the risk."

Farrell bit back his objection, so surprised was he by Anders' response.

Anders went on. "I don't suppose either of you have ever encountered a demon before."

Melody shook her head and Farrell replied, "We are not mages."

Anders studied them speculatively before asking, "You've been tested?"

"Yes, by the Starkhaven Templars," he replied.

"And yet your sister has this gift…"

"I'm standing right here," said Melody, her expression petulant.

"Curiouser and curiouser," said Anders, and ran a hand over his brow as if he were in pain. "You're sure you have met no demons in the Fade?"

"No," said Farrell. "Only Fen'Harel and you."

Anders' eyes widened in shocked surprise. "Fen'Harel? The Dread Wolf? You've met him in the Fade?"

"A couple of months ago Farrell and I dreamed of him," said Melody.

"I thought he was only an old story the Dalish tell to scare their children," said Anders.

Farrell shrugged, wondering if he should have told Anders about the Dread Wolf. They'd been warned not to tell him about themselves, but who else could help them here in this strange place? And Melody was right, the mage was easy to like and he had refused Melody's offer in order to protect them from demons. No, Farrell thought, they had no other allies in the Fade, and though it was difficult to go against his parents' wishes, his heart was telling him that they needed Anders. Still, he could be careful about just how much he would divulge.

But before he could say anything else, the scene around him began to shift and swim. The last thing he heard before he found himself back in his cot in the aravel was Anders' voice shouting, "Farrell… Melody…"

He awoke to find his sister's eyes shining in the darkness from where she lay on her cot next to his.

"Will we tell Mama and Papa?" she whispered.

"Not yet," replied Farrell. "I need to think."

Farrell slept no more that night as he lay in his bed and watched the dawn light slowly begin to show through the cracks around the edges of the door. By the time Papa came to tell them Mama wasn't feeling well and he would take them to have breakfast with Varric, Farrell was no closer to figuring out what they should do.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

"Hawke has a headache this morning," Fenris told Varric. "Would you mind if the twins ate with you while I tend her?"

"Not at all," Varric replied and immediately turned to Melody. "So Sparrow, what's the deal the with frowny faced elf?"

 _Frowny faced elf_? Fenris wondered, but didn't stay to hear his daughter's reply. Instead he quickly moved off toward the aravel where Hawke awaited him.

He hadn't thought he would like sleeping in what amounted to a creaking wagon with sails upon it, and had therefore been surprised to find it quite restful. He found that he also did not miss being in a city as he once used to. It seemed that being with his family – he paused in his thinking as it struck him anew that he had such a family – it seemed wherever his family was felt like home.

He climbed the wooded steps into the aravel and moved to the back where Hawke was still in bed. "How is you head?" he asked her as he sat down on the edge and laid a gentle hand on her forehead.

"Silly man," Hawke replied. "My head is fine."

"Then why did you say…" he began, but when Hawke lowered the blanket just enough for him to see she wore nothing underneath, realization dawned. "You do not have a headache," he said.

"No, but I do ache," she replied with a frown.

Fenris felt her words as if it were her touch. He finished the job she'd started with the blanket and ran a finger slowly between her breasts. "Is there some way I might relieve this… ache?" he asked, then added, "I would not see you suffer."

"You are so very kind," she said, which made him grin.

"Kind, am I?" he asked as he climbed into the bed with his wife.

"Oh yes," she agreed, "No doubt you are kind to me. But you have other qualities I'm more interested in right now." Her hand slipped under his tunic and up his back, her fingers feather-light on his skin.

Fenris growled low in his throat. "Of what qualities do you speak?" he asked.

"Well, there's your stamina," she replied thoughtfully. "I've always been very impressed with your stamina."

His lips found her throat just as his hands reached her hips. "Stamina is an important quality," he murmured against her skin.

"Fenris," she said, and he lifted his head, a question in his eyes.

"Hurry," was all she said.

He was happy to oblige.

**FROM THE JOURNAL OF VARRIC TETHRAS**

Apparently Hawke had a 'headache' this morning and I had the pleasure of Sparrow and Farrell as breakfast companions. An hour later, however, when Hawke and Fenris finally joined us, well let's just say she looked more than fine to me. Eh hem.

Anyway, I didn't waste anytime asking Sparrow what the deal was with that elf, Erynon. Elf number three perhaps? Hehe. I'm around so many elves these days I can't keep track. I almost had a talk with him after I saw the way he was so rude to my little Sparrow, but I learned something long ago when it comes to life lessons – you have to let people find out for themselves. They'll never listen to a word you say until they have personal experience to instruct them. Hmph. And that's all the wisdom you're getting out of me, at least until the spring thaw.

"He doesn't like me," said Sparrow, "but I don't know why."

I chuckled and told her, "Boys that age don't have to have a  _why_."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Let's just say when boys reach a certain age they pretty much hate everybody," I told her seriously.

"So it's not just me?" she asked.

I'd seen the way the boy had an extra special nasty look for the Hawke family, but I kept that to myself. "Nope," I said with certainty. "Not you."

The way my little Sparrow smiled, I thought the small omission well worth it.

Something else I noticed was how quiet Farrell was. Not that he's a talker, but I don't think I'd heard two words out of him all morning. And there was that expression on his face, like he was a mabari worrying a bone.

I like to mix my metaphors, so I asked him "Canary got your tongue junior?"

"What?" Farrell looked up at me, clearly puzzled.

"You plotting to overthrow the Chantry?" I asked in all seriousness.

For some reason that made him flush. I wondered just what was going on in that way-too-smart head of his? Unfortunately that's about the time Hawke and Fenris came strolling over for a late breakfast, and I didn't get a chance to give Farrell the old Tethras inquisition.

My only complaint so far about this whole staying with the Dalish scenario is I'm sharing an aravel with Donnic and Zevran. Elf number two's not so bad, but Donnic can snore to wake the dead. I heard Zevran mention that he was going to ask that cute little elf Cúel if she had any anti-snoring potions. You know me, I don't miss much - I saw the way he was looking a Daisy's First yesterday. A blind nug could have seen it.

The twins are off training Dalish style, and that leaves me kind of at loose ends for the time being. As there isn't more story for me to tell right now, I think I'll see if I can stir up a game of Wicked Grace and fill my pockets with Rivaini's coin. It's past noon, so she and Pardus should be stirring soon, hehe.


	8. Chapter 8

Melody glanced back toward camp as she rubbed her hands together to warm them, and was transfixed for a moment by the sight of the aravel sails swaying in the brisk morning wind. Her gaze then drifted and she saw her father standing at the edge of the camp talking with Varric and Donnic – they were supposed to keep an eye on her and Erynon as they began her Ranger training – something she was not looking forward to. Maybe a mile away to the east was the dark blur of the Plansene Forest, and although they had been warned not to venture close to its borders, Melody felt a pull deep within her to explore its tangled depths. She sighed. Not this day. This day she must find the patience to endure this un-pleasable, if intriguing, elf.

"Come on, Seth'lin," he said, "Move those short little legs of yours and keep up."

Melody frowned but quickened her pace. Why must he always be so rude? She asked a different question aloud, however. "What's a Seth'lin?" she asked.

He stopped so abruptly she nearly ran into him. In a voice filled with rancor, he replied. "It means your blood is thin," he said. "Polluted by your shemlen mother."

Melody felt her face heat with the insults. She knew what a shemlen was – had heard the term in their travels and had asked Papa. It was what the Elvhen called humans. She was tempted to call him a  _dirty knife ear,_  another term she'd picked up when they were in Ostwick the last time, but couldn't bring herself to do so when she thought of her father. The impulse to reach out and touch Erynon, to sing to him and calm his anger, was strong. But she remembered what had happened when they'd simply touched hands, so instead she said, "My mother would only laugh at you if you called her that to her face."

"Oh, she's simple-minded too, is she?" he asked with a snort.

Melody drew a deep breath. She'd promised Mama and Papa to do her best to learn from this… this  _blighted elf_  and she would. But she didn't have to put up with this bad-mouthing of her mother. Fiercely she said, "My mother is the best  _person_  in all of Thedas. She would laugh because she wouldn't care what  _you_  called her."

He shot her a dirty look and resumed his stomping.

Melody called after him. "With all that noise you're making you'll scare away every creature within a league!"

Finally they reached the little copse of trees that was their destination and he stopped again. "Look," he said as they reached the edge of the small woods, "I don't like you. I don't like humans or dirty mixed bloods. But I owe Keeper Merrill my life, and I will do what she asks."

Melody remembered what her mother had said the first time she'd been teased about being half an elf and she repeated it Erynon now. "No one can help the way they're born, and what matters is you treat everyone fairly." She watched in fascination as his ears turned bright red – the tips seemed to almost glow.

"You're just a child," he said with vehemence. "You know nothing."

"I know you have no reason to hate me," she said with a fair amount of indignation.

He stared down at her for so long, Melody thought he might change his mind about their lessons and just stomp off again. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Shemlen killed my parents," he told her.

Melody felt what seemed like a hundred different things at once. Her first thought was the terrible fear that she could lose her own parents, followed swiftly by a fierce hatred of anyone who would dare harm them. It wasn't long, however, as she gazed at this young elf's proud, angry face that she felt such a deep well of sadness – of loss and abandonment and rejection – that her own anxiety was washed away by an overwhelming empathy for Erynon. What must it be like for him? she wondered. With no Mama and no Papa to love and protect him? It was so clear to her what lie beneath his anger that she could not be mad at him. She was her mother's daughter and without consciously understanding what that meant, she knew instinctively how Mama would react in such a situation.

"Keeper Merrill says you're the best Ranger in all the clans," she told him. "I want to learn what you know." Melody looked him directly in his faded green eyes and asked, "Will you teach me?"

He stared down at her, and though not all of the animosity left his face, he did appear to calm down slightly. He did not answer her directly, but only nodded and turned to move into the trees.

Melody sighed and followed him. It was going to be a long winter.


	9. Chapter 9

Farrell found he did his best thinking when polishing Valora. The past two days, ever since he and Melody had met Anders in the Fade for the second time, he'd done an awful lot of polishing. He'd been so caught between his parents' words of warning and caution and his own gut feeling about the mage, that they had yet to tell their parents of this latest dream. It hadn't helped that his sister was off training with Erynon, leaving him alone with his troubled thoughts.

As he thought back on the stories he'd heard from Uncle Varric and compared them to his own impression of Anders, he sometimes questioned how could they possibly be the same person? His only conclusion was it must have been the spirit of Justice that made the difference, and from what he remembered of the tales, only Auntie Bela had known….

Farrell's hand abruptly stilled. Auntie Bela had known Anders before he was in Kirkwall! Before he had merged with the spirit!

Even excited and in a hurry as he was, Farrell carefully replaced Valora on the foot of his bed before he ran out of the aravel in search of Isabela.

* * *

Truthfully, Isabela had thought this trip would continue on as it had begun – lots of sneaking around, stabbing things and looting bodies. Other than Farrell's injury, of course, it had been the best fun she'd had in years. But, and she sighed to herself, now it was only a lot of talking and councils and losing coin to Varric playing Diamond Back. If it weren't for Pardus being so very… entertaining, it was possible she would have died of boredom by now. Dalish elves did not seem to be the partying sort, and Merrill seemed to be the only one ever to laugh at her jokes.  _Keeper Merrill_ , she thought. What strange turns all their lives had taken.

When she exited the aravel she shared with Pardus and squinted into the late morning sun, at first she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. She saw Farrell running across the camp toward her at breakneck speed, just as if he were a young boy not yet turned nine. She rubbed at her eyes and peered between her fingers.  _Andraste's ass_ , that was Farrell, and at that moment, she heard him call her name.

"Aunti Bela," he said and came skidding to a halt, kicking up a cloud of dirt. He inhaled a deep breath and blurted, "Excuse me, are you busy?"

Isabela snorted, but managed not to laugh. Even in an obvious hurry and even running across the camp in such an undignified manner, Farrell was ever polite.

"What is it, pup?" she asked.

Farrell's expression immediately became puzzled. "Pup?" he questioned.

Isabela ruffled his hair and laughed. "You reminded me of a mabari pup the way you were bounding across the camp."

Farrell's expression immediately changed to one of controlled impatience. "I'd prefer if you didn't call me that," he said.

Oh my, he had no idea what he was asking for. She grinned at him but told him seriously, "As you wish." She winked and watched as Farrell's eyes narrowed. Maybe he did know after all.

"So," she said as she sat on the steps of the aravel, "What's so important?"

He studied her for a moment as if judging his words carefully. "I need this," he began, "I need this to be between you and me."

Again, she snorted. "You do know who you're talking to, Farrell?" Isabela placed a hand to his forehead and asked, "You feeling alright?"

Farrell brushed her hand away. "This is important," he told her.

Part of her immediately thought that to most children his age, what was important wouldn't mean the same thing as it did to Farrell. That made her sad, which surprised her a little bit. He was so young to be dealing with this crazy Fade nonsense. She then remembered something she hadn't considered in ages. It was long, long ago, while they were still in Kirkwall, that Hawke had told her the story of her first love, Ren. Isabela had never told another soul the secrets Hawke had shared that night. She'd kept her promise, and she realized – if somewhat belatedly – that it made her feel good about herself. In fact, she was so entranced by this feeling of being trustworthy that she must unknowingly have sat silently for many minutes.

"Auntie Bela?" Farrell said waving a hand in front of her face.

When her gaze refocused on Farrell's face, it hit her as if for the first time that this was Hawke's son studying her so intently, asking her to keep his secrets, too. She laughed at herself that after all these years she was still capable of becoming a better person _._ She'd thought she'd peaked on that score long ago when she'd managed to stay faithful to Pardus.  _I can do this for him_ , she thought.  _For Hawke's son._

"Okay, sweet thing," she said. "Spill your guts and we'll keep it between you and me."

"You promise?" he asked doubtfully.

"I promise," she told him.

The silence between them lingered until Farrell finally took a seat next to her on the wooden steps. "When did you first meet Anders?" he asked her without preamble.

Of all the things she might have guessed Farrell would ask her, that particular question would have never entered her mind. Perhaps because he'd caught her off guard, she answered candidly. "In Denerim, right as the Blight was ending."

"What was he like then?" Farrell persisted.

If Isabela had been the blushing sort, she might have pulled one off just then. As it was she cleared her throat and tugged at her heavy collar. "I, um…" she stalled, "why do you want to know?" She had no intention of relating the details of that particular evening to a young boy. She did have standards, despite what some people thought of her.

"It was before he met Justice, right?" Farrell asked, ignoring her question.

"Yes," Isabela drawled slowly as she began to understand what was going on here. "You dreamed about him again, didn't you?" she asked.

Farrell was perfectly capable of blushing, and did so quite profusely. "You promised," he reminded her.

Isabela only nodded.

"Two nights ago," he told her and looked up at her as if he were confessing a mortal sin. "I like him."

Isabela smiled. "Anders always was the likeable sort before… " she hesitated. "Well, you know – before."

"Do you think we can trust him?" Farrell asked seriously.

How was she supposed to answer that? She had really only known him in less than respectable circumstances. He had been fun loving, outrageous and incredibly gifted at magical sex, but trust him? So she told Farrell the truth. "I honestly don't know, Farrell. But even in Kirkwall I liked him until, well, until he finally lost it."

Farrell sighed heavily, and Isabela's heart went out to him.

"What happened in your dream?" she asked him gently.

So Farrell told her of the voices, and of his own slip of mentioning the Dread Wolfe to Anders, and his confusion between his parents' warnings and his own feelings.

When he was finished, she knew what she needed to tell him. She didn't know if it was the right thing, but she knew it was the true thing. Somehow, she thought that's what mattered most.

"I've known your parents for a very long time, pup," she said, and allowed a small smile to curve her lips. "There are no two people I trust more, it's true." Isabela reached out and took his hand. "You have the best of both of them in you. You need to trust  _that_."

Farrell looked so deeply into her eyes, she thought maybe he was reading some of her own soul's not so pretty secrets, but when he spoke he only said, "Thank you, Auntie Bela." And the smile he gave her was all the more precious because it was a rare thing.

"Anytime, pup," she said.

Farrell sighed. "It's permanent, isn't it?"

"Fraid so," Isabela replied with a laugh.


	10. Chapter 10

A southerly wind had blown in a cold rain during the night, and as Zevran sat in the open doorway of the aravel he shared with Varric and Donnic, he was bored out of his mind. Watching muddy puddles form in the ruts made by the wagons was not very entertaining. He'd declined the offer to play cards with the others, wishing instead to revel in his misery this morning. He could be dramatic that way, he knew.

His eyes lifted to scan the camp and rested on the sailed wagon that Merrill shared with her First – the tempting little Cúel. He sighed deeply. Such a delicious morsel, a sweetness that he would very much like to taste. Repeatedly. For a very long time.

When the door to Merrill's aravel opened and the Keeper slipped out into the rain, Zevran's interest peaked. Where was she going, he wondered, and for how long? Ah, to visit the Hawke family, of course. He saw Melody's pretty little face as she opened the door and ushered Merrill inside.

Always a man of action, and nearly always driven by the desires of his flesh, Zevran stood and made his way across the camp, carefully avoiding the mud puddles. It was past time he try his luck again with the Keeper's First, yes? Of course it was.

* * *

Cúel had so very little time alone, that when Merrill announced she would spend the morning with Hawke's family, she cheerfully saw the Keeper off. There was a new potion she'd been meaning to work out, and for such delicate work, she required solitude. She loved Merrill dearly, but sometimes her chattering was a bit much. The thought of a new potion reminded her of how that brazen Antivan had asked her for a snoring cure, which caused her to frown. She did not particularly care for the way he looked at her – as if she were a slice of chocolate cake or a bowl of cream and berries. Thoughts of Zevran made her uncomfortable, so she pushed them away and began to pull supplies from the cupboard. Elfroot, ambrosia, deep mushroom – one by one she pulled jars from the shelf. Cúel opened the jar of ambrosia and inhaled the heady aroma. She instantly responded to the curative power of the herb, and the cares of the morning seemed to dissolve away into nothing.

Cúel loved her craft, and would happily have spent all of her days mixing potions and distilling tinctures, but instead she was First to Keeper Merrill. Since she'd taken her oath, her responsibilities had grown exponentially. She had not wanted the role, but neither had she been able to refuse it, because Cúel knew she was the most talented mage in the clan. The weight of being First was always heavy on her shoulders. She sighed and reached again for the ambrosia. Work was a sure cure for her melancholy.

She placed three generous pinches of ambrosia in her granite mortar and began the methodical task of grinding. All thoughts fled her mind as she gave herself over to the work, and soon the aravel was filled with the intoxicating aroma.

A soft tapping at the door interrupted her peace, and she felt a twinge of annoyance, which she quickly tamped down. Duty first, she thought as she moved to the door. She wondered if perhaps Granwell's child had taken a turn for the worse in the night, and she began to plan a tincture that would break the babe's fever.

When she opened the door to find that blond, tattooed elf smiling at her, she nearly shut it again in his face. Her newly found peace was gone, replaced with a thrumming tension in her body. By the creators, would he not leave her alone?

"A fine morning," he said, gesturing to the blowing rain as if it were a warm, sunny day.

"What do you want?" she asked a trifle more briskly than she'd meant to. He was, after all, a guest of the clan and a friend to Mari Hawke.

One hand went to his breast as he said, "I find I have an ache - here," he said, patting his chest. "Perhaps you would help me with it?"

Did this man have no scruples? His blatant flirting had been wearing on her nerves since his arrival. "Why do you persist…" she began, but he was already pushing his way past her into the aravel.

"What is this delicious smell?" he asked. "It is very… arousing."

Cúel felt her cheeks flush. She  _would_  have to be grinding ambrosia – an herb known for its sensual properties. Why couldn't she have chosen the deep mushroom first? The stench of it surely would have had him running away. "I'm very busy," she said, and remained near the open door.

Zevran ignored her hint and brought gentle fingers to her face. "The blush of your cheeks reminds me of an Antivan rose," he said huskily. "And just as soft."

Cúel meant to step away from him, she really did. But his gaze held her spellbound and the warmth of his fingers on her cheeks was distracting.

"What is it that your eyes are telling me, my beautiful rose?" He ran his thumb along her bottom lip. "What, I wonder, are you thinking?"

Thinking? How could she possibly think with the way he was… What was it he was doing, exactly? She opened her mouth to tell him he must go, but before she could find her voice, his tricky thumb slipped inside and grazed her teeth.

"Such a delectable mouth," he said, and before she knew what was happening, he brought his lips to hers.

Perhaps if he'd been pushy or insistent, her natural protective instincts might have kicked in. As it was, however, his mouth was feather-light on hers, as he tasted her ever so softly. A liquid heat bloomed low in her belly just as her legs lost their ability to support her, and she grasped his arms to keep from falling.

He whispered against her mouth, "So sweet, just as I imagined you would be." His tongue traced her lips languidly, and without knowing what she did, Cúel found herself opening to his gentle penetration. He explored her with great care, and she hardly noticed when his hands slipped into her hair, resting at her nape, where his fingers began a soothing massage; loosening her tense muscles.

She felt, rather than heard the soft moan escape her throat, and suddenly Zevran stilled. Cúel felt his fingers trembling against her skin as he pulled back and gazed seriously down into her face. There was a slight frown curving his full lips, and a line of worry on his brow. She tried to bring her mouth back to his, but he did not allow it.

"What is it you are doing?" he asked her seriously.

"Wh-what?" she stammered, hardly able to understand him.

"You are using magic, yes?" he asked.

Magic? What was he talking about? When realization dawned on her, the dreamy haze suddenly lifted, and she jerked herself away. Zevran merely stood gazing at her, looking both puzzled and wary.

Cúel lifted a trembling arm and pointed to the door. "Leave," she said emphatically.

If she'd thought he would stay and press his case, or return to his ministrations, she was wrong. With a shake of his head, he turned and walked back out into the rain.

Cúel stood silently shivering for long moments, watching Zevran walk carefully back the way he had come until finally, with a trembling hand she shut the door. She knew in her heart this would only lead to trouble. The worst of it was, more than anything she wanted him to come back and kiss her again.


	11. Chapter 11

_What had just happened?_  thought Zevran. Surely the little mage had used magic – she certainly had not denied she had done so. What other reason could there be for the sudden constriction in his chest and the trembling of his hands? He glanced down at his long fingers as he made his way back across the camp. Never in all of his experience had his hands betrayed him in such a way.

Perhaps this attraction to Cúel was a mistake – a thing he should not pursue. Yet when he thought of her silken skin and the honeyed taste of her kiss – he could not imagine staying away. Perhaps he should leave – make his way to Denerim as he had originally planned. That would be safest, yes?

Another thought hovered around the edges his brain, one that he purposefully did not wish to engage - but by the time he pulled open the door to the aravel and slipped inside, there it was, practically shouting at him.

Was this what he had been searching for? Was Cúel the one he'd waited his whole life to find? Was this perhaps, what love felt like?

If so, it was not the pleasant experience he had once thought it would be. No, not at all. These feelings were painful – something to be avoided at all cost.

Zevran had just reached for his rucksack and began gathering his meager belongings, when there was a loud pounding at the door.

He moved to open it, suddenly afraid. Would it be his beautiful rose standing there?

It was Fenris, and before Zevran could say a word, his friend spoke in a voice laced with panic.

"Is Melody here?" Fenris asked, and craned his neck to look behind Zevran into the aravel.

Zevran was confused. He'd seen Melody not long ago, inviting Merrill into the Hawke's aravel. "No, she is not here," Zevran replied. "What is…"

However, before Zevran could finish, Fenris said in a low growl, "She is gone."

It was then he noticed the camp was in an uproar, shouts of "Melody!" echoed between the aravels. He'd been so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he'd been oblivious to his surroundings – another thing that had never happened to him before.

Zevran grabbed his daggers and set them in the sheaths at his back, before following his friend out into the cold rain. It seemed this was not such a fine morning, after all.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

**Earlier…**

With Mama and Papa deep in discussion with Keeper Merrill, and Farrell utterly absorbed in disassembling his crossbow for a thorough cleaning, Melody felt restless and bored.

She idly picked up a book and glanced at its cover:  _The Fall of Arlathan._  Ugh. It sounded awful. She didn't want to learn about all this ancient stuff and old elven gods – she wanted to be _doing_  something. She cracked the door and peeked outside. The rain was still coming down fast and hard, which definitely meant no training with Erynon today. She should probably be happy about that, but she wasn't. Erynon's attitude toward her had only improved to the point of barely suffered tolerance, but his skill in the forest was unlike anything she had ever seen. He knew every plant, every tree, and every tiny bug that crawled along the forest floor. More importantly, though, he could bend them all to his will. Or so it seemed to Melody. He said that they listened to him because he also listened to them, which only confused her. She could call the birds and butterflies to her anytime she chose, but she could not understand them. She wanted to learn how to do that more than anything.

"Melody?" Her mother's voice called, interrupting her thoughts.

"Yes Mama?" she replied, moving into the tiny breakfast room, where her parents sat with the Keeper around the small table.

"Be a love and fetch Auntie Bela for me?" her mother asked with a smile.

 _Something to do!_  "All right," she replied happily, and nearly ran for the door.

"Melody! You're cloak!" Mama said.

Melody snatched her cloak from the peg by the door and ran out into the rain.

She'd meant to go straight to Antie Bela's aravel, she really had. To avoid the mess of mud, however, she'd slipped behind the wagons to walk the perimeter of the camp instead. Moments ago she had thought the rain an annoying thing, but now as she peeked from under her hood at the misty, drenched landscape, she thought it quite beautiful.

Her eyes drifted to the dark outline of the Planascene Forest, its vague outline a tempting promise of adventure in her heart. One day she would…

Just at that moment, a sphere of blue light appeared above the trees and was gone before she could blink.  _What was that?_  she wondered, and unaware that she did so, she took a step away from the camp. Wait! There was another! She watched, awestruck, as a shimmering globe of blue light hovered above the treetops, longer this time. Melody took another step, and then another, as the circles of light continued to pop in and out of existence over the forest, dipping high and low before disappearing all together.

Soon she was running - all thoughts of her errand abandoned. Tall, wet grass slapped at her knees, and soaked the edges of her cloak, but Melody did not notice, so transfixed was she by the beautiful orbs rising and falling in the rain-drenched sky.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ 

"Here," Erynon said as he pointed to the flattened line of grass. He glanced up - his ranger's eyes able to see her trail clearly as it stretched away from them toward to edge of the trees, far in the distance.

Her father must have noticed, as well. "The forest," he growled and immediately started off in that direction.

Erynon wanted to protest, but Hawke beat him to it. "Fenris," was all she said, but he immediately stopped and turned back to her. "Allow Erynon to lead," she told him, as she placed a hand on his forearm.

Fenris' glaring eyes were suddenly upon him, and Erynon realized in that moment just why the older elf had the reputation of being such a fierce warrior. Erynon swallowed hard before he moved in their direction. Everyone looked at him – all of the shems who had come and disrupted the peaceful life of his clan. Never mind that Zevran and Farrell were both elves, and that Varric was a dwarf. They were all shems to him. They were not Dalish.

"You  _will_  find her," Fenris said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Erynon could only nod. It seemed his voice had deserted him.

Farrell had been quiet, standing apart from the rest, his eyes trained to the sky. He finally turned to them and asked, "What are those things?" and he pointed to the forest.

Erynon scanned the horizon, but saw nothing unusual, only trees, mist and rain.

"What do you mean, Farrell?" asked Hawke, and she squinted her eyes, searching the sky.

Farrell frowned. "Those round blue lights. What are they?"

A blur of Fenris passed Erynon's sight, and the man suddenly stood before his son. "What blue lights?" he asked in a tight voice.

"How can you not see them?" Farrell practically shouted. "They're huge!"

Hawke turned to the Keeper. "Merrill?" she asked.

"I can't see them," she replied with a shake of her head.

"We're wasting time," growled Fenris. "We should go."

As Erynon began to lead the party across the sodden field, he heard Hawke say to her son, "Tell us if you see anything else."

"She went to find out what those things are, I know it," Farrell said, and the expression on his face was so much like his father's, that Erynon began to reassess his opinion of Melody's brother.

Whatever Farrell was seeing, Erynon couldn't help but agree with him, but he kept that opinion to himself.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ 

Once under the dripping, bare trees, Melody slowed her footsteps. Every few minutes blue light would erupt in the sky above the forest and create dark patterns of skeletal branches on the ground beneath her feet. Now that she was here, she was questioning the wisdom of her mad dash. She jumped when another flash of light lit up the tangled growth. This time, however, she thought she could hear something as well. Voices. Whispering voices.

The path Melody found twisted its way deeper into the woods. Should she go on? She was suddenly afraid and wished that Farrell was with her. She also wished she had something more to use as a weapon than the small dagger Mama insisted she keep on her belt.

Was that someone calling her name?

"Hello?" she called, tremulously.

She rounded a turn in the path and suddenly stopped. Not far in the distance, the air before her shimmered in waves, like heat rising up from stone on a hot summer's day.

The whispering grew louder.

"Melody!" a clear voice called above the raucous din of whispering.

Someone  _had_  called her – was calling her again.

"Hello!" she shouted, searching beneath the trees. The voice sounded familiar, if only the drone of hushed voices would stop, perhaps she could remember who it belonged to.

Suddenly the light shifted from soft blue to stark white and began to pulse in a staccato beat. It made Melody dizzy, and she put a hand over her eyes to shut it out.

"Melody!" came the voice again, this time closer. She peeked through her fingers and saw the figure of a man running between the gnarled trunks of the trees, fading in and out with the flickering light.

This was not right. There was something very wrong going on here, and she swiftly turned to retrace her path. Her heart lodged in her throat when she saw that behind there was now only darkness. No trees, no tangled vines, and no flickering light - but instead a black abyss of nothingness.

"Melody! Here!" came the voice again, and this time she recognized it. It was Anders, she was sure, but how could he be here in this forest? He was dead. He lived in the Fade.

Anders' figure winked in and out of existence – but she could see him now with his feathered coat and the long staff on his back. "Anders!" she shouted. "Help me!" As she spoke, a fierce wind began to blow.

With each heartbeat of pulsing light, Anders came closer to her, even as he struggled against the rising wind. "Take my hand!" he shouted above the rushing cacophony of sound, and he reached for her, his fingers straining.

From behind, another sound began to pour from the black nothingness. It was a guttural roar of rage and need.

"Quickly! Melody!" shouted Anders, and she began to run toward his flickering form.

When their hands clasped, the flickering light was replaced by a grey swirl of clouds and mist. She could feel the strength of Anders grip on her, and it felt as if they were falling through the air.

"Don't let go!" he shouted as the whipping wind tossed and pulled at them, and she reached for him until both of her both hands were gripped tightly in his.

They fell for a very long time.


	12. Chapter 12

"Wait," Farrell said as they neared the border of the forest. "The lights… something is different."

Merrill came to stand beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I can't see it, but I can  _feel_  it – feel the Fade," she said. "It's almost as if we're dreaming."

Farrell glanced up at the Keeper. "Do you hear the whispering?" he asked her.

Erynon approached and spoke before Merrill could answer. "Melody's trail ends here," he said and shook his head. "Something is blocking my senses, the trees are silent."

"She must be in there," said Hawke, as she fought to control her rising panic. Her baby girl was somewhere out there, all alone.

Merrill squinted into the forest before turning back to Hawke. "Long ago," she said, "the Veil here was torn by the Magisters in a great battle."

Fenris snorted.

"Andraste's dimpled butt cheeks," said Varric, "and here I was worried about demon trees."

Varric had barely finished speaking when a rumbling sounded deep within the forest. Soon the ground where they stood began to vibrate and tremble.

"What's happening?" shouted Hawke above the din. It reminded her of the moments before they were attacked by the ogre that killed Carver.

The rumbling increased to a roar and before anyone had a chance to react, a huge rush of light and air exploded from the Planascene. It lifted the entire party off the ground and scattered them across the dampened field as if they were no more than ragdolls.

Fenris was the first to recover, and was quickly back on his feet shouting, "Hawke! Farrell!"

His relief was palpable when he saw his wife pick herself up from the muddy grass several feet away. Even as he ran to her, his eyes were scanning for his son. "Farrell!" he shouted again.

"Fenris?" Hawke asked, a hint of panic in her voice. "Where is he, Fenris?"

"There!" shouted Fenris, and they took off running, hand in hand, toward a crumpled form near the edges of the trees.

As they neared, they saw that is was Erynon, not Farrell. They knelt down in the sodden grass beside him just as he was attempting to sit up.

"Are you all right?" asked Hawke as she helped him to stand.

"I couldn't reach him," Erynon said through gritted teeth.

Hawke's stomach tightened painfully. "Reach who?" she whispered, but in her heart she already knew the answer.

"Farrell," said Erynon. "When the blast hit, it sucked Farrell in while the rest of us were thrown back. I tried to grab him, but…"

"What do you mean,  _sucked Farrell in_?" demanded Fenris and his markings began to glow.

"Into the forest," said Erynon. "It just… inhaled him." He shook his head. "I don't know…"

They were interrupted by shouts from the others. Hawke turned and saw Merrill and Pardus crouched over the unmoving form of Isabela.

"Her leg is broken," Merrill shouted, her voice filled with distress. "We need Cúel!"

Zevran moved toward them, brushing wet grass and mud from his armor as he walked. "I will go," he said, though he didn't sound happy about it. Without another word, Zevran took off at a run back toward the camp, while everyone else gathered around Isabela's prostrate form.

Her leg was pinned beneath her at an odd angle, and her once dark complexion was a sickly grey. Pardus gently lifted her head onto his lap and said, "My love," in an anguished voice.

Merrill pulled a healing potion from her pouch and pressed it to Isabela's lips.

"Ugh," Isabela said weakly, once she'd finished it. "Can't they make those things taste better?"

Merrill laughed and brushed bits of debris from her friend's face. "Isabela…" she began.

"I know, kitten," Isabela said and tried to smile. "Shoo – go find Melody."

Pardus said, "I will stay with her."

"Farrell…" Hawke said as they approached the others, but she could not finish.

"Why is Fenris glowing?" asked Merrill as she glanced up at them nervously.

"Farrell is gone," said Erynon. "Whatever force that was, it took him."

"Took him?" Merrill asked. "That makes no sense."

"I saw it," said Erynon. "It pulled him in there." He gestured back to the forest.

"We need to go," growled Fenris, his temper barely controlled.

Hawke saw Erynon catch and hold her husband's gaze. "Agreed," Erynon finally said, and without another word, both men turned and moved toward the tree line.

* * *

**_In the Heavens..._ **

"We have them," said Elgar'nan with a self-satisfied smile.

"If they survive the transition," Mythal snapped at her mate. "That was reckless, and unnecessary."

"Unnecessary, you say!" boomed Elgar'nan. "They could not hear us. There had been no progress at all!"

"Mother is right," said Sylaise. "You may have done more harm than good."

"My own daughter turns against me?" said Elgar'nan in disbelief. "Keep to your hearth, Sylaise. I did not force the child to enter the Veil Tear." He puffed up his chest and strode over to sit on his throne. "Now that  _the two_  are in the Fade permanently, we shall surely be freed of this prison."

"That you did not lead her to the Tear is an easy excuse," said Sylaise. "She knew not what she was doing."

"What of their earthly lives?" pleaded Mythal as her ire rose even more. "You are no better than a thief!"

"You can take care of that, Mythal, my love," he said coaxingly. "Surely it is within your power."

Mythal shook her head vigorously. It was unusual for her to become so agitated. "I do not know," she said. "And it is something you should have asked before you acted so impulsively!"

"It matters not," said Elgar'nan, and his own anger returned. "What are two mere mortal lives compared to the very gods?" He knocked his staff hard on the floor. "Nothing!" he boomed in answer to his own question.

"Have you forgotten Fen'Harel?" asked Andruil. "He will hunt them, I am sure."

Before Elgar'nan could reply, another voice spoke up. Ghilan'nain alone among the gods had once been mortal, and she said, "I only hope you do not regret what you have done, Elgar'nan." Her voice was soft, barely heard, but all the gods turned to her. "There are powers greater than even the gods, and you may someday have to answer for this."

* * *

Anders patted Melody's back awkwardly as she sobbed into his feathered shoulder. He had no experience with children, really. Even when he'd been in the Circle, he'd avoided the little magelings as much as possible. Was it because his own childhood had been stolen from him so viciously? He sighed. Who knew? He only wished this particular child would stop crying soon.

He'd been standing on the bridge, hoping to see the twins and feeling lonely and sorry for himself, when all chaos had erupted. The borders of the Fade had begun to shift and split, and he'd barely kept his footing in the maelstrom that followed. Leafless trees had erupted from beneath him, like so many shades summoned by a blood mage. Their branches had torn at his robes and his skin, and for a time he could do no more than try his best to avoid them.

He hadn't believed his eyes when he'd first seen Melody standing on a narrow pathway in what was now a veritable forest surrounding them both. "Melody!" he'd called, and her head had jerked up in attention. She'd heard him, and he shouted her name again, "Melody!" He'd run toward her, dodging branches and tripping over tangled vines, when suddenly the eerie Fade-light began to pulse like a heartbeat. The hairs on the back of his neck had stood up in response to the massive energy that was beginning to build. "Melody!" he'd called a third time.

"Anders!" she'd screamed, and with one swift glance over her shoulder, she'd pushed off in a sprint toward him. He'd barely grasped her hand when the humming vibration of energy reached its crescendo and ripped the very fabric of reality apart. Suddenly they were airborne in a misty, formless word, falling together for what seemed like hours, before the shape of the Fade began to coalesce beneath them.

"I need one of my hands," he'd shouted above the wind. "It's alright – I won't let go!"

As soon as he had his hand free, he'd cast a protective circle around them, and thank the Maker he had. The circle had fractured upon impact, and they'd landed hard. For an interminable amount of time, they'd lain there, Melody half draped across his chest. Soon after that, the sobbing had begun, and it showed no sign of stopping.

Anders was more than ready to get up when Melody finally lifted her head. "Are we in the Fade?" she asked as she peered at the familiar scene. The bridge. The rushing creek. The long, low hill in the distance.

"Yes," he replied soothingly. "We're all right now."

Melody turned her head and looked at him very seriously. "Am I dead?" she asked in a small voice.

Was she dead? He wasn't sure, but he didn't think so. She'd been pulled into the Fade through a Tear, not through physical trauma. He decided it was best at this point to be reassuring. "I think not," he said.

"When will I wake up?" she asked. "How will I wake up if my body is here?"

"I'm sorry sweetheart, I just don't know," he answered, and he prepared himself for a new round of sobs. He was surprised when they did not come, and instead watched in fascination as her pretty little features transformed into a mask of determination. "But we will know," she said. "We will find out."

No doubt, she was most definitely Hawke's daughter.

* * *

They searched for hours, until the deepening twilight made it impossible for them to see beyond the soft glow of Merrill's staff. There had been no sign of Melody or Farrell, but they'd battled through several groups of shades wandering beneath the twisted, broken branches of the trees. Hawke assumed they had been left over from the influx of the Fade into the forest.

Several times Erynon had stopped and stooped low to the ground, but what he was looking for, Hawke did not know. She was hoarse from calling her children's names, and from the coppery taste in her mouth, she was sure her throat needed healing.

"Hawke," Fenris said from behind her, and his normally deep growl was a thin, raspy thing. She turned and the look on his face was another knife through her heart. The next thing she knew they were in each other's arms, clinging to each other as if they were all that was left in this world. Perhaps they were.

Merrill's soft lilting voice drifted over them. "We should go," she said. "Return at first light."

"The trail will grow cold," Erynon protested. "We need to keep searching…"

Merrill's voice resonated with the authority of a Keeper as she said, "You have found nothing, Erynon – not a trace of their passage. It is not through your skills that we will find them."

"You think magic  _will_  then?" he said with barely veiled contempt.

"Silence, Erynon," said Merrill before turning back to Hawke and gently asking "Lethallan?"

Hawke pulled back from Fenris just far enough to read his eyes. A glance told her all she needed to know. This was her decision. "Yes," she croaked.

It wasn't until she turned and saw Varric's wet, red-rimmed eyes that she nearly gave into the full weight her panic and fear. If Fenris hadn't had such a tight grip on her, her legs would not have supported her on their own.

 _No_ , she thought,  _do not waver._

They began the long, slow trek back to camp.

* * *

Farrell awoke to hot, fetid breath wafting over his face, a heavy pressure on his chest and something sharp sticking painfully into his left hip.

"How did they manage it, I wonder?" asked a gnarling voice.

Farrell recognized it immediately, though it had been many months since he'd last heard it. He opened his eyes to see the wolfish visage of Fen'Harel only inches from his face.

"However they did it," Fen'Harel continued, "You must not allow them to break free."

What was he talking about? Farrell grunted and the Dread Wolf lifted a thick paw from his chest. "What…" Farrell began and then coughed. "What are you talking about?" He rolled over and pulled Valora from beneath him.

Fen'Harel snarled-laughed. "The gods have brought you here, you and your sister," he said. "They seek to break free of their prison." The wolf padded away a few steps and sat on its haunches. "That cannot be allowed."

Farrell looked around as he cradled his crossbow tightly to his chest. He was in the place of the three standing stones where he and Melody had dreamed of Fen'Harel the first time. "Where is Melody?" Farrell demanded.

"She is near, and yet far away," said Fen'Harel.

"That is no answer," said Farrell. He pushed himself up from the ground and stood. "How can I find her?"

"You, young pup, must now find the man within you," he replied obtusely. "You must find your sister and thwart the gods." Fen'Harel's teeth bared in what might have been a smile. "If you dare."

Farrell tamped down the anger that arose in his chest. He would not be provoked by this demon/god. "If you refuse to help me, then I'm leaving," he said and turned on his heel.

Fen'Harel's growling laughter followed him as he hurried down the crest of the hill and descended into the trees.

* * *

Alone in their aravel, Hawke and Fenris sat on the empty beds of their children. They had returned to camp, changed their drenched clothing, eaten a cold meal and accepted the kind and supportive words of their friends. Isabela was resting comfortably after being treated by Cúel's excellent healing skills, but in truth that was small comfort. Since they had returned to their temporary home, neither had spoken a word.

Hawke had never known pain such as this. She knew she must integrate it into her strength – into her will to act – but she could not find her way. The pain burned through her in a powerful rage, and yet is was also a freezing fear. She fought the urge to vomit with each breath she took.

When her mother was murdered, Fenris had been her catalyst to healing, but now he sat paralyzed by his own overwhelming fear for Melody and Farrell. What were they to do? Search the Planascene for their lost children? She knew in her heart it was a futile effort. They were gone. If they were within reach, she knew she could have found them; nothing could have halted her efforts or kept her from her children.

The question was, where were they? Merrill had said she felt the strength of the Fade just before the explosion. She said it felt like she was dreaming. And the lights Farrell had seen. Why hadn't she paid closer attention?

"Hawke," said Fenris, startling her from her morbid reverie.

She lifted her eyes to his, and he held out a hand to her. She took it and allowed Fenris to pull her to him. Hawke settled on his lap and leaned her cheek on his forehead.

"We will find them," she said and pressed her lips to his over-warm skin.

His arms snaked around her waist, drawing her closer. "I do not know," he replied. "I fear…"

"Don't say it," hissed Hawke. "Don't."

Fenris nodded and lifted his face to hers. "What would you have me do?" he asked her.

"Be my fierce warrior," she said, and now tears began to slide down her cheeks. "Don't let me shatter."

"For you," he replied in a choked voice, "anything."


	13. Chapter 13

**FROM THE JOURNAL OF VARRIC TETHRAS**

I don't even want to write the words. When you're a storyteller, writing things down makes them real – gives them weight and credence and value. Never in all my years have I been as loathe to put pen to paper, as I am now.

There's only one tale I've never told, and will never tell – the story of Bianca. Can you see where this is going? Varric, the cheerfully glib dwarf, who can turn the greatest tragedy into a daring tale of adventure and triumph, is having difficulty writing down one simple sentence, because it's too close to my heart. There's too much pain.

 _Shit_.

The twins are gone.

My little Sparrow and her brother are missing. Probably sucked into the Fade by unknown forces, but who really knows?

We've spent days searching the forest for them, with nothing more for our trouble than a stray shade and an occasional demon. I can see it in Hawke's eyes – she knows we won't find them. I know it, too.

Perhaps I should explain.

There is something about those two – the children of Hawke and Fenris – that  _shines_. Why do you think I've been following Hawke's family around all these years? If you'd ever had the privilege of being around them, you'd understand. I guess it's like lyrium is for the Templars. Once you've had a taste, you can't imagine living without it – without them. At least it's that way for me.

Now they're gone, and I'm suddenly feeling very useless and very old. What good is a dwarf when it comes to the Fade? Not much, I can tell you.

Almost as painful to me is the haunted look on Hawke's face and the expressionless mask Fenris wears these days. I've been really worried that this newest tragedy would break them both. I mean, any parent would be devastated by something like this, but after everything Hawke and Fenris went through for all those years? It's like Melody and Farrell were the healing spell that made them whole again, and without those twins? I just don't know.

So it was a small consolation, at least, when I happened upon them standing together behind their aravel, staring out at the Planascene. I've known those two for a very long time - from the very beginning. I was there the night they met. So when I saw the way they were leaning into each other – the way that Fenris had his arm curled around Hawke's waist and the way that she had her head pressed into his shoulder, I felt just one small knot of anxiety unravel in my heart. They were still together, still clinging to each other, even though their whole world has been shattered.

As long as that's true, I guess I can keep on hoping that this will all turn out okay in the end.

* * *

Zevran was pacing. He did not enjoy the fact that he was doing so, but could not seem to help himself. Fortunately, Donnic and Varric were out somewhere doing something, and he had the aravel to himself. He could not pace very far in this cramped space, it was true, but at least there was no one in his way – no short, stubby legs to trip over and no bulky human to impede his circular progress.

It was very clear to him now why he had never allowed his heart to become entangled. It was true that he had been fond of people in the past. Take the Warden, for example: A fine woman whom he had once greatly desired. Yet when she had chosen another, it had not caused him more than a momentary disappointment; so very different from the fire in his heart right now. A stray thought of Rinna tried to slip into his mind, but he quickly pushed it away.

He had known that he was fond of Hawke's children – they were such a delight, especially beautiful Melody. He'd had no idea that he loved them in this desperate way, or that their absence would leave this gaping hole in his chest. The worst part was; he could not solve this problem by any usual means. His daggers were useless, and his other skills…

Of their own accord, this time his thoughts turned to Cúel, and he found they could not be banished.

More than anything, he wanted to drown his pain in her soft flesh. He wanted to fill the chasm inside of him with her scent and her taste.

When he'd gone to retrieve Cúel in order to heal his wounded friend, her eyes had looked at him with such an odd mix of desire and fear. Despite his lack of knowledge when it came to matters of the heart, he'd instinctively known that it was no time to pursue the desires of his flesh.

Zevran did not care for this inner turmoil and a sudden, selfish wish that he could have finished packing and left before Fenris came to bang on his door overwhelmed him.

His pacing increased. He had been well trained. He had learned how to enjoy the pleasures of sexual intimacy, while remaining utterly detached from his feelings – from love. Why could he not do so now?

The answer came in a moment of epiphany.

It was because of Hawke's children. They had slipped past the locked door that guarded his heart for exactly one reason - because there was no lust involved.

How extraordinary this new understanding was.

Zevran knew then that he must talk to someone about this unknown territory of such painful feelings, but he did not know who that could be. His thoughts turned to Hawke, but he did not see how he could possibly burden her in such a way. Her pain must be the size of a mountain in comparison to his.

A soft tapping at his door abruptly stopped his pacing. Could it be his rose? Could it be Cúel?

When he opened the door and saw Hawke standing there alone, the pain in his breast increased tenfold. His dear friend's eyes were haunted, and the lines of pain around her mouth were a harsh contrast to the pale skin of her face.

"Hawke," he said, "You need something, yes?

She nodded. "Yes," she agreed.

"Of how may I be of service, my friend?" he asked gently.

"The others… they've gone back to the forest to search. Fenris went with them, but I just couldn't…" Tears welled in her eyes, and Zevran reached for her hand.

"Come in," he said and led her to a bench in the small sitting room. "We shall talk, my dear Hawke. This will help. No?"

"Will it?" she asked as he sat down next to her, still holding her hand.

"To be honest, I do not know," he replied. "Perhaps a brandy would be better?"

Zevran was relieved when Hawke gave him a crooked smile. "Bit early in the day, don't you think?"

"Just a small sip," Zevran said as he smiled back at her. "It is medicinal only, I assure you."

"I suppose it can't hurt," she said with a sigh.

As Zevran pulled out his flask and poured a small bit of brandy into a mug, he couldn't help but wonder why Hawke had come to him for comfort? Surely she did not wish for something more than words? He considered that for a moment. He studied her lips and wondered if they were as soft as they looked. There was such sadness in her eyes; he was sure he could wash it away with just the right touch. The curve of her jaw was enticing, as was the barely discerned pulse at the base of her throat. His gaze lingered there, and he was sure that she would taste like heaven itself.

"Zevran?" Hawke asked, and he could hear the wariness in her voice.

No, he should not think this way. Hawke's devotion to Fenris was beyond question.

He handed the brandy to her and slowly, cautiously resumed his seat. "Now, should we talk about what is troubling us all, or shall I distract you with my clever wit?" he asked, and did his best to give her a comforting smile.

She studied him a moment before she responded. "I didn't want to be alone," she said and took a sip of the brandy, "and something drew me here… I don't know."

At her words, that wrenching pain again filled Zevran's heart. It must have shown in his eyes as well, because when Hawke peered up at him, her face softened.

"I know you care about them, too," she said.

Zevran cleared his throat. "It is true, yes," he replied. "Your children… I have little experience with these feelings," he finally admitted.

"You've never lost someone you love?" Hawke asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Have I?" he asked, "I am not sure." He decided he would tell her the truth. "Is it possible to watch someone slit the throat of your love and spit in her dead face when it is done? Could that be love?"

"Zevran," she breathed, "that's horrible..."

A witty retort was on the tip of his tongue, but as he looked into Hawke's guileless eyes, it would not pass his lips. Instead he asked her, "Why does no one explain that love is painful? They make it sound so wonderful, yes?"

Hawke's eyes narrowed. "We're speaking of more than my children," she said, and it was not a question.

"There may be someone, perhaps," he hedged.

"It's Cúel," Hawke said with surety.

Zevran stared at her in amazement. "I would not… I did not say…" he began.

"Zevran," Hawke said firmly, "I am in no mood for prevarication. Out with it."

For a moment he was just happy to see the spark return to Hawke's dark eyes. It had been absent for many days now, and he did not realize how much he'd missed seeing that, as well. "It was a near thing," he finally said. "I was packing to leave when Fenris came to my door."

"Because of Cúel." Again, it was not a question.

"It is true," he told her. "I pursued her, as I have done with so many others."

"Backfired, did it?" Hawke asked, and this time her lips curved just a fraction.

Zevran laughed. "Tell me, my dear Hawke, do you see into everyone's souls?"

"Hmm," she murmured. "Only if they have a soul to see."

He became serious again. "Why do you choose love? Without it, there is only pleasure."

Hawke's eyes became sad. "Zevran, no one  _chooses_  to love. Not in the way you mean," she said.

"No?"

She shook her head. "No," she replied. "Love comes to you. There is only one choice then. Will you be true to your heart?"

"I see," he said, though he really didn't.

"You think you know pleasure?" she asked him as she handed him back the mug and rose from her seat. "You haven't got a clue."

"What is it you are saying?" he asked as he, too, rose to his feet.

"You cannot truly know bliss unless you know despair," she said enigmatically. "Love isn't only one thing." Hawke ran a light hand down his arm. "It is everything."

"Perhaps the middle ground is safest, yes?" he suggested with a wry smile.

Hawke moved to the door, and placed her hand on the knob. "Safest? Perhaps," she said and shook her head. "But if you are true to your heart, you will find that love is the only ground upon which you can truly live."

With that, she left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Zevran stood holding the mug, unmoving and lost in his thoughts for a very long time.

* * *

Farrell decided he did not like the Fade.

The way the long branches of the trees seemed to grab at him, and how the roots seem to find their way under his feet no matter how careful he was, increased his frustration with each step he took.

_Blasted Fade._

How was he supposed to find Melody if he couldn't even break through these stupid trees? He could see dappled sunlight ahead, and yet, he never seemed to get any closer. It was infuriating. The harder he tried the more the trees seemed to thwart him.

Suddenly Farrell stopped.  _The harder he tried_ , he thought. Could that be the problem? He was trying too hard? He was in the Fade, but was acting as if he was in a real forest full of real trees. What if…

Farrell calmly focused on the brighter light ahead and gingerly stepped forward. The distance seemed to half itself, and between the massive trunks of oak and elm, he could now glimpse tall grasses swaying in a light breeze. He inhaled slowly and took another step, not trying, not fighting – simply keeping his attention ahead to the break between forest and field.

Two more steps and he was free. Farrell immediately took off at a run across the field. Fen'Harel had said Melody was near and yet far away, and considering the trick he'd just learned, Farrell thought of nothing but his sister as his legs carried him forward.

* * *

"I'm not going anywhere until Farrell comes," Melody said and crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest. "As soon as he falls asleep, I know he'll be here."

Anders huffed in exasperation. "Fine," he replied and sat down on the edge of the bridge. "We'll wait."

Melody glanced around her. "Where does the whispering come from?" she asked.

"Nowhere. Everywhere," he replied. "I'm so used to it, I hardly hear it anymore." He frowned. "Although it's louder when you're around."

Melody sat down next to him and was silent for several moments. Finally, she asked in a quiet voice, "Did you see the blackness?"

"What are you talking about? What blackness?" he asked.

She dropped her gaze to the rushing water. "Nothing," she said. "Never mind."

"Melody," Anders said softly. He took her chin in his fingers and tilted her head toward him. "What did you see?"

Her eyes began to fill with tears again as she spoke. "Just before everything went crazy, I turned around. I wanted to go back." She swallowed hard. "But I couldn't. It was black, only black. No light, no sound… j-just black."

"That couldn't be the Fade," Anders murmured, as if he were talking to himself. "Do you remember anything else?" he asked.

Melody nodded. "There was this sound…"

"A roaring…" Anders breathed.

Her hand quickly grasped his wrist. "You heard it, too?"

Anders nodded. "I'd forgotten. Like you said, everything went crazy there for a while."

"Did you see the nothingness?" she asked hopefully.

"No, I don't think I did," he said. "To be honest, once I saw you standing there, I don't think I noticed anything else." He did not tell her she had been like a beacon of light, and that she'd shone so brightly she'd nearly blinded him.

Melody only nodded again. "How long before it's night?" she asked.

"Oh Melody," Anders said sadly, "There is no nighttime in the Fade. There is no time at all."

"I don't understand," she said. "Then when will Farrell dream?"

"In the Fade it could feel like minutes or hours or days," he said and shrugged his shoulders. "There's no rhyme or reason to it."

Melody wiped at her eyes. "He'll be here soon. I know he will."

 


	14. Chapter 14

"I'm hungry," Melody complained.

Anders' head snapped around to gawk at her. "What?"

Melody peered up at the shocked expression on his face. What was wrong with him? "I haven't eaten since breakfast," she told him sulkily.

Anders shook his head. "But you can't be hungry. That's impossible!"

"Maybe you'd like to argue with my stomach," she said, and had the sudden urge to lay a hand on his arm and sing him calm again.

"Melody," he said seriously, "no one is hungry in the Fade."

"Why not?" she asked glibly. "Because you're all dead?" She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth, and the pain in his amber eyes just made her feel worse.

"I was here several times before I was dead," he told her, impatiently. "There is no hunger here. Well, except for the  _demon_  kind of hunger." His lips curved in a wry smile.

"Still, I'm hungry," she said, but smiled back at him. It was impossible to stay angry when he teased her that way. She stood and brushed at her hips. "As soon as Farrell gets here we need to find some food." Melody scanned the trees that edged close to the stream, and was disappointed to see only leaves and no hanging fruit.

Anders sighed. "There is no food in the Fade," he said, clearly exasperated. "And even if there were, who would eat it?"

"I would," she replied, and lifted her hands to her ears before adding, "Maker, doesn't it ever stop?" The constant whispering was giving her a headache.

"No," he replied, and from habit he lifted a hand to his own ear. "It doesn't."

"I wish I knew how to wake up," Melody sang as she shook her head. Everything about the Fade made her angry. She wanted to go home. She wanted to wake up in the aravel and hear Mama's soft laughter and Papa's blade sliding across his sharpening stone. Right now, though, she would settle for…

"Farrell!" she shouted, and took off at a run. Finally, her brother was here.

* * *

Anders watched with an inward smile as the two siblings ran to each other. He was slightly disturbed by Melody's admission of hunger, but for now he pushed those thoughts away. As he stood on the bridge and allowed himself the simple pleasure of witnessing their happy reunion, he was completely unprepared for what happened next.

The minute, the second, the twins touched, several things happened all at once.

The whispering exploded into loud voices, booming through the thin air of the Fade.

… _ **reckless…**_

… _ **no progress…**_

… _ **harm than good…**_

… _ **a thief…**_

At the same time, a glowing bubble of blue-white energy surrounded Melody and Farrell, and it was so bright, Anders brought a hand to his eyes to shield them.

Even as he did that, the ground beneath his feet began to shake and tremble, and the pungent smell of ozone filled the air.

A human-shaped figure was forming above the bridge, but it was much larger than human-sized. Anders ran to the twins and without thinking, grabbed them each by an arm, pulled them away from the transparent apparition and began to run up the hill.

"Halt!" boomed a voice from behind him, but Anders ignored it and kept on running.

* * *

"The mage is supposed to help, not hinder me," said Elgar'nan, as soon as his body was fully rematerialized back in the Heavens.

"Always so forceful," said Mythal. "Consider perhaps that your sudden appearance terrified them."

"I could not maintain my form or give chase once they began to run like frightened rabbits," he said, a puzzled frown heavy on his brow. "Why is that?" he asked and turned to Falon'Din, who best knew the paths of the Fade.

"Have you not noticed?" Falon'Din asked in turn. "That bridge is a singular constant in the ever-changing Fade." A smirk appeared on his usually serene face. "An obvious thing to overlook."

"Only Fen'Harel has been able to pull them away from that place," said Falon'Din's brother, Dirthamen.

Elgar'nan's expression became a mighty mask of rage. He turned to his mate in order to demand answers, but there was such a thoughtful expression on her face that he hesitated. "What is it, my love?" he asked. Mythal could always sooth away his anger with a mere glance.

Mythal turned to Falon'din. "Tell him," she softly said.

"That place – the bridge over the stream…" said Falon'din.

"What of it?" demanded Elgar'nan. He had no tender feelings toward the  _friend of the dead_ as he did towards Mythal _._

"Do you not remember when it became fixed and unchanging?" he asked.

"Why would I notice such a trivial thing?" Elgar'nan asked derisively.

"Reality turns on the head of a pin," interjected Mythal.

Elgar'nan stamped his huge staff on the floor. "Speak plainly!" he bellowed.

"It was the Mother," said Falon'din with a sly grin. "It is the place where the Mother Hawke dreamed of her father Malcolm, and since that time, the bridge has remained."

* * *

The three had been running for quite some time when their progress was stopped by the sudden appearance of a broad, slow river.

"Blasted Fade," muttered Anders.

Farrell glanced to the right and left. To the right were several tall hills with steep, rocky cliff-faces. "This way," he said. The other direction had been a large copse of trees, and he hadn't liked the look of them.

They wound their way through the hills into a small, sheltered canyon. Everything seemed peaceful and quiet, and here the whispering in his mind was nearly indiscernible from the whispering of the slight breeze. "Let's stop here," said Farrell, and he rubbed at his stomach. "Maker, I'm hungry."

Anders glanced at him sharply, but said nothing.

Melody, on the other hand, had quite a lot to say. "How did you find us? Are you dreaming? Is Mama angry with me? Who was that giant man? Do you know…"?

"Melody, slow down," said Farrell. "I'll tell you what I know."

His sister gave him a sheepish grin and tugged at his hand. "I'm just so glad you're here now," she said.

"First things first," he said and detached a large pouch from his belt. He pulled out strips of thin jerky and pieces of dried apples and plums.

"Food!" Melody squealed delightedly, and reached for his pouch. They settled into devouring the food with appetites that could match a Grey Warden.

"Want some?" Farrell asked Anders, and held out several strips of jerky to the mage.

Anders shook his head. "I'm not hungry," he said. "And you shouldn't be either."

"Why not?" asked Farrell as he popped a slice of apple into his mouth.

"Because it's the Fade," said Anders. "No one gets hungry here, or needs to sleep."

As if on cue, Melody yawned. "I still say it's because we're not dead," she said.

Anders ignored her and turned to Farrell instead. "Are you dreaming, Farrell?"

Farrell shook his head and swallowed before replying. "No, I'm not dreaming," he replied. "Something sucked me in here while we were hunting for my sister."

"You were in the Planascene?" asked Anders. "I didn't see you…"

"Just on the edge of the forest," said Farrell. "The ground shook and then this light exploded and then… whoosh! I was in the Fade with the Dread Wolf bent over me like he was going to eat me for dinner."

"What?" exclaimed Melody. "Farrell…"

"It's alright," he said and reached to squeeze her hand. "He just said a bunch of stuff that made no sense, and then laughed at me when I ran to find you."

"What did he say, exactly?" asked Anders.

For a moment Farrell remembered that he wasn't supposed to entirely trust this mage. He swallowed his guilt just as he had swallowed the apple slices. Anders was their only ally now. At least he hoped he was an ally. Farrell sighed, and decided that for now, he would treat the mage as such, anyway.

Farrell recounted everything Fen'Harel had said to him as best as he could recall. He told them of how the gods were trying to use him and Melody to break free of their prison in the Heavens, and that Fen'Harel had said they shouldn't let that happen – how they were supposed to  _thwart the gods_. He left out the part about finding the man within himself, because for some reason it embarrassed him.

"Do you think? Is it possible…?" Anders mused.

"What?" asked Melody in alarm.

Farrell nodded. "I think that was Elgar'nan above the bridge," he said.

"Been studying Dalish myths?" Anders asked and grinned at him.

"For months," Farrell replied and bit off another piece of jerky.

Anders face lost its humor and turned pensive. For a while no one spoke as the mage paced the small confines of the canyon. After some time had passed, he turned and spoke to them. "I think you are both really here," he said.

Melody giggled. "Of course we are." She waved a hand in the air. "See?"

"What do you mean?" asked Farrell.

"I can't say I understand the Fade completely," said Anders, "but I know you should not be hungry. You're also not dreaming. Your bodies are not lying in some comfortable bed somewhere while your minds travel the Fade."

Farrell looked down at his own arm as if seeing it for the first time. " _Really_  here," he said very softly.

"And nowhere else," said Anders.

* * *

A week passed, then two, with still no sign of the twins. Merrill had been trying desperately to recreate the ritual Marethari had used to send Hawke into the Fade to save Feynriel so many years ago. The task had thus far proven beyond her skills.

Each night as she laid her head on her pillow, Hawke hoped that perhaps she would meet her children in her dreams. Each morning, she felt anew the grief of losing them when it did not happen.

Hawke shifted in Fenris' arms. He was still sleeping, and her slight movements had not roused him from the Fade. He'd kept his promise so far and had not given into the bottomless despair they both battled each day. She knew that if his resolve slipped, she would follow him into a colorless world without meaning; one from which she doubted they would return.

So, they kept their faith and their hope alive, and took comfort in each other as best they could. She knew not what else to do.

Lately she had overheard some of her friends murmuring that perhaps they should move on. That they should seek aid in finding the twins somewhere else – perhaps even the Circle in Starkhaven. Thoughts of Bethany intruded now, and the desire to see her sister became a new ache in her heart.

Yet how could she leave this place? It was the last known whereabouts of her children. And yet how could she stay? The clan would move on when the winter broke. There were no answers that brought her solace.

This time Fenris stirred, and his eyes fluttered open and captured hers. There was a new sadness there that threatened to break her heart every day. Instead of giving into the tears she felt overwhelming her, she found a smile for her love.

Fenris pulled her more tightly into his arms and softly kissed her brow. She sank into his warmth and, for just a little while, let it be enough.


	15. Chapter 15

Anders watched the twins sleep. He wasn't sure how it was possible, but he knew in his heart that Melody and Farrell – mortal children – now existed in a place meant only for spirits and demons. Not since the Magisters entered the Golden City and began the corruption had such a thing happened.

What did the Dalish gods want with these children? To be free of their prison? How could the twins accomplish such a thing? There was also the Dread Wolf to consider, and whatever Fen'Harel really was; Anders didn't trust him. Thwart the gods? Seriously? As he watched the twins' slumbering forms, he could not fathom what that might mean.

He only knew that he must protect them. He must ensure that no harm came to them.

He sat on a flat boulder and gazed up at the Black City, the Maker's despoiled heaven. It didn't sit well with him, the story of the Maker. The Golden City had once been a heaven for mortals who'd died, but it was now an evil, unreachable place. It was the birthing place of the darkspawn, and perhaps it also held the answer to the ultimate question – what exactly was the taint?

If those stories of the Maker were true, how was it possible that the story of the Dalish gods was also true? Did magic really come from the Maker - or was there something else going on, entirely? Between the questions plaguing his mind, and the perpetual whispering in his head, he was envious of the twins and their slumber.

 _Wait a minute_. If they were asleep in the Fade, just where did their dreaming take them? Anders suppressed the sudden urge to wake them and find out; instead he attempted to refocus on what they should do next. He needed to find a way to release Melody and Farrell from the Fade. Beyond that, he did not know.

He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate.

* * *

"Where are we?" Melody asked as she looked around, but she could see nothing but more than the faintly glimmering form of her brother.

Farrell reached for her hand, and she was relieved when she felt his fingers firmly entwine with hers. "I don't know," he replied.

"Does the Fade have a Fade?" she asked, and the words passed through her lips like a song.

"You think we're asleep?" asked Farrell.

"We are," she told him. "I remember closing my eyes and then… this."

"Whatever  _this_  is," he said. He took several steps, and pulled her along with him.

Melody could see nothing but a dull, smoky landscape – above them, beneath them, all around them. There was no form, no variation at all, except for the two of them. "I don't like this," she said.

"It is better than the alternative," said a deep, growling voice.

Melody knew that voice. "Fen'Harel," she hissed.

The figure of the great wolf began to emerge before them. First his pointed nose and mouth, followed by his glittering eyes, and lastly by the rest of his large, shaggy body.

Farrell pulled her more closely to him. "Alternative?" he asked, and Melody did not like the uncertainty she heard in her brother's voice. He was usually so sure of himself.

"Yes," said Fen'Harel. "If not for my interference, you would be with them. At their mercy, you might say."

"With who?" asked Melody.

"Elgar'nan, Mythal, Falon'Din, Sylaise…" Fen'Harel began the litany of names.

"The gods," said Farrell. "But why… how…?"

The great wolf chuckled, and to Melody's ears, the sound was sinister.

"Can you not guess?" asked the Dread Wolf.

Melody screwed her face up. She was sick and tired of this whole stupid situation. "We just want to go home!" she shouted. "So why don't you just tell us what we have to do to make that happen."

"You do not  _have_  to do anything," he said. "But there are things you may want to do, and others you may chose not to." He bared his teeth. "I have, however, brought you here for a purpose. I have brought you here to save your lives."

"It seems to me you've stolen our lives," Melody said.

"Melody…" Farrell warned.

"What?" she asked, and turned to her brother. "You don't like his games anymore than I do!"

Fen'Harel dipped his muzzle down, and when he lifted it again, there was a large brown sack held between his teeth. He dropped it before them.

"What is that?" asked Farrell.

"You best take it," Fen'Harel said. "If you wish to survive." He then backed away from them and his form faded away just as it had come.

Farrell looked at her, a question in his eyes.

Melody shrugged and bent to open the sack. She was so frustrated; she hardly cared if there was a demon hidden in the stupid bag. What she found surprised her. "Look at this, Farrell," she said.

Her brother peered over her shoulder. "Apples, cheese, figs…" He looked up at his sister. "Food?" he asked incredulously.

* * *

Anders noticed the large sack tucked between Melody and Farrell. "Where did that come from?" he asked.

"Fen'Harel gave it to us," Melody said in disgust as she rose to her feet. "It's food."

"Food? I'm not sure I'd trust…" Anders began, but his eyes narrowed as he took a closer look at Melody. "There's something different about you."

"Different from what?" she asked.

Farrell rose and stood next to his sister, and suddenly Anders noticed what he hadn't a moment before. "You're both taller!" he exclaimed. "And you look…"

"Look what?" Farrell demanded, as he studied his sister. His eyes widened. "Melody, you look older."

His sister's shocked face was peering back at him. She reached a tentative hand up to touch his face. "So do you," she softly sang.

Farrell turned quickly to Anders. "How long were we asleep?" he asked.

Anders sighed deeply. "I keep trying to tell you, there is no time in the Fade."

"Then how did this happen?" Farrell demanded. "If there's no  _time_ , how did we age while we were sleeping?"

"I don't know, Farrell," replied Anders. "Nothing about this whole thing makes sense." He lifted a hand to his ear and tugged as he began to pace. "We need answers, but who has them?" he asked.

"Fen'Harel does," said Melody. "But he's not sharing."

"Even if he did give you information, you shouldn't trust him," said Anders. "Never trust anyone whose motivations you don't understand."

Farrell peered at Anders through narrowed eyes. "What about you Anders? I've been wondering what your motivations are."

"Me?" Anders asked, shocked by Farrell's words. "What motivations could I possibly have? I'm dead. I wander the Fade. End of story."

Melody walked over to him and laid a hand on his arm. She shook her head. "That's not true," she said in a hushed tone. "You're full of doubt and guilt. You're still angry at Justice, and sad about what you did in Kirkwall."

Anders stared at Melody with his mouth open. "I've never said, I mean how could you…?"

But instead of answering him, Melody began to sing.

He barely heard her words over the sudden roaring in his head.

Memories began to form in the air around him. He saw himself barely more than a boy, being ripped from his mother's arms by steel gauntleted hands. The image then shifted and bled into a young Anders sobbing alone in a cold, stone cell - rats skittering along the walls stealing his meager food. Someone was shouting at him that magic was a curse the Maker bestowed upon the wicked.

Melody's sweet, dulcet tones continued to weave the waking dream around him.

Mages, friends were made tranquil without rhyme or reason. He would try to follow the rules – try to please his captors, but nothing ever worked. He was running through a frozen field, the sounds of heavy-booted footsteps closing in from behind him – his bare feet cut and bleeding. A sallow faced Anders emerging from his cell, a year spent with no human contact and he'd been nearly broken. The images continued to meld and shift until Anders could stand it no longer and he began to sob.

This was why he had always been glib with his tongue and impertinent in his actions. This was why he had never allowed himself to care for anyone but himself. Why he had hid behind humor and sarcasm, while always and forever attempting to escape the life he had never chosen.

A voice. A familiar, beloved voice spoke to him then. An armored figure glowing yellow bright was walking toward him.

 _Anders_ , said the voice.

"Justice!" cried Anders. "Help me!"

_You must forgive yourself Anders. Forgive yourself for what you could never control._

"I don't understand. I just wanted to be free!"

_Who was your last chance for absolution Anders? How did you finally fail yourself? Fail me?_

Anders shook his violently. "No!" he screamed.

 _Who_? Justice demanded, his voice as cold as iron.

Anders dropped to his knees just as the young girl before him stopped singing. She looked at him with her sad, beautiful eyes. Her mother's eyes. Hawke's eyes. His last chance for absolution had been Hawke. And because she would not love him, he'd allowed his jealousy to merge with his anger and form a hard knot of hatred from which he could not escape. It was he who had corrupted the spirit of Justice inside him into a spirit of Vengeance. It was he who had brought down the Chantry. It was Anders himself who had not trusted the one person who could have helped him find a better path. All because he'd loved her and wanted her for himself.

 _Yes_ , said Justice.  _Forgive yourself Anders. Make Amends._

* * *

"What will you do?" asked Merrill.

Hawke sat with Fenris and Merrill in the Keeper's aravel. It was late at night and most of the camp had retired, but she could hear Cúel softly humming to herself as she prepared potions in the next room.

This decision had been long time coming, and was the most difficult choice she'd ever had to make. For many weeks they'd discussed their limited options, and even now Fenris was reluctant to follow through with her plan. Yet he would. He had given her his word that he would, and a promise from Fenris was a promise kept. She squeezed her husband's hand before she answered Merrill.

"We will return to Starkhaven," she said, and even as the words left her lips, she wanted to call them back.

"You are sure, Lethallan?" asked Merrill. "We will not leave this place for another month." The Keeper reached over and laid her hand on Hawke's shoulder. "Perhaps they will return."

"No, I'm not sure, Merrill," she replied, and could feel the tears pooling in her eyes. She swallowed hard and held them back. Tears would not return her children to her. "How can I be sure of anything? But I must do something more than sit here and wait."

Merrill nodded slowly. "I understand," she said sadly. "I wish I could bring them back to you, but there is one small I can do."

Hawke looked up, a question in her eyes.

"When we leave here, a few have volunteered to remain," Merrill said. "Until Melody and Farrell are safely returned to you, someone will always guard this place."

Hawke was about to protest, when the door swung open and Erynon burst through. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were wild. "Keeper," he said through his ragged breaths.

Merrill stood and went to him. "What is it Erynon?" she asked. "What has happened?"

"I saw her." He shook his head and drew several more breaths. "I saw  _them_."

"Where?" Fenris demanded, and was quickly on his feet. "Where are they?"

Erynon shook his head again and said, "Come, I will show you."


	16. Chapter 16

"It's the bridge," said Hawke, and her expression was awe-struck.

"The bridge?" asked Fenris, and narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see it.

Hawke took Fenris' face in her hands and moved it slightly to the left. "There, see?"

At first he saw nothing but the endless rows of tree trunks, and tangled vines that snaked down from bare branches above. His frustration mounted, and he was about to tell Hawke that he couldn't see this bridge, when a faint shimmering caught his eye.

"Don't try too hard," he heard Hawke whisper in his ear. "Relax."

He drew in a deep breath and attempted to calm his jangled nerves. As he watched the air shimmered between the trees. He thought he caught a glimpse of  _something_. It was like trying to look through rushing water to find the fish that skimmed along a riverbed. "Perhaps," he said. "There is… something." Hawke's fingers on his face drifted up to rub at his temples. Her soothing touch was like magic, because where minutes before there was only the forest stretching off into the distance, now he could clearly see a stone bridge crossing a stream and a long, low hill in the background. "Hawke," he said, "I once dreamed of you there."

The breath of her soft laughter tickled the hairs on his neck. "Yes," she said. "It was right after Meredith sent those Templars after us."

Fenris didn't turn his head to look at her, afraid he would lose sight of this glimpse into the Fade. "I had just moved in to your estate," he said.

"It was your first dream that was not a nightmare," she reminded him. "And you shared it with me."

He couldn't help himself; he turned to look at her then. The love that was shining in her eyes pierced his heart, and prompted his first smile in many, many weeks. "Yes," he drawled. "I remember."

"How did you find this place, Erynon?" asked Merrill. "It's nearly impossible to notice."

"Nearly impossible? Perhaps, "said Erynon. "But there it is."

Fenris looked at the young man standing next to Merrill. He was aware that every day since the twins went missing, Erynon had come to the forest at dawn, and would not leave until the sun had set. He knew this because he had journeyed with the younger elf many times. They never spoke, but together they would endlessly prowl the wooded depths of the Planascene. Several times they'd been attacked by shades, but mostly Fenris only watched as Erynon slowly traversed the forest, almost appearing as if he were out for a casual stroll. Fenris knew, however, that the elf missed very little. He'd noticed when a bird or a squirrel would approach the Ranger, how Erynon would stop, and he'd cocked his head as if to listen. Until today, however, they'd found no sign of Melody or Farrell. Until today, they'd nearly given up hope that the forest would yield its secrets.

"Unless you have the talent," Erynon told the Keeper, "I cannot explain it to you."

Fenris held back a snort. Despite everything, Erynon's arrogance appeared to be intact.

"You saw Melody on the bridge, then?" asked Hawke.

Erynon nodded. "Yes. At first I wasn't sure it was her… them," he said, and blushed slightly. "There was something different about her. But then I heard Melody say, 'Hurry Anders'. She grabbed the hand of a tall, sandy-haired man wearing robes, and they ran out of sight."

"Anders," growled Fenris, and he felt Hawke squeeze his shoulder. For her sake, he would remain silent, but the sudden tightening of his stomach could not be stopped.

"Have you tried to, well, go in there?" asked Merrill. She sounded less sure of herself, more like she had when they'd all been in Kirkwall together.

"If you move away from this spot, the…  _window_  disappears," explained Erynon.

"Hmm,  _window_ ," said Merrill thoughtfully, and turned toward them. "Hawke?"

"You have an idea?" asked Hawke.

Merrill nodded. "Can you see the bridge?" she asked.

Hawke repositioned herself in front of Fenris, and swayed slightly for several moments. "Yes, there it is," she said.

"Good," said Merrill, and she sounded more confident. "I'll try to approach it. Tell me when I'm near." The Keeper pulled her staff from her back and began to make her way slowly through the undergrowth.

* * *

 _You must return to the bridge_ , said Justice before he turned to go.

"Wait!" shouted Anders. "Why must you leave?"

Melody watched this exchange in some confusion. When she'd first began to sing to Anders, she'd only meant to help him, to sooth him. She'd been unnerved when the images of Anders began to appear in the air around them. Memories they'd been, but they'd seemed more like waking dreams. Anders had been so young… not much older than she and Farrell were now. It was only when she'd felt a presence behind her that she'd stopped her song, and she'd turned to find the translucent armored figure striding toward them with purpose. As soon as the spirit had approached, Farrell had come to stand close beside her, and put one arm protectively around her shoulders.

She hadn't understood much of the exchange between Anders and Justice; it had seemed rather one-sided, with the spirit speaking to him, and Anders only sobbing in return. This had felt like it went on forever until Anders finally struggled to stand and face them.

"Melody… Farrell," he'd said brokenly. Anders lifted his arms and held out his hands toward them. "Please."

With the staunch figure of Justice as some sort of ghostly witness, they'd approached Anders cautiously. The tears in his eyes had made hers tingle, as empathy for him poured into her. "Anders?" she'd asked him.

The mage placed a hand gently on each of their shoulders. First he'd looked a Farrell for what seemed a long time, before his gaze had captured Melody's.

"I need you to help me," he'd said.

"What can we do?" Melody had asked him.

If possible, his eyes had grown even sadder. "Once, long ago, I made a lot of mistakes. Big mistakes." He'd turned his head to look at Justice. "What I thought were unforgivable mistakes." He'd swallowed hard before continuing. "If I had only… If I had been but able to see past my own selfish interest, if I'd only put my trust in the one person who could have helped me find a better path…" Tears had begun to pool in his eyes again.

"It's all right, Anders," she'd said.

He'd shaken his head. "No. No it's not all right. But it can be." He'd taken a deep breath before resuming. "The person I'm talking about is your mother," he'd said. "It was Hawke."

The mention of her mother had made Melody feel as if a tight fist were squeezing her chest. "Mama?" She'd felt Farrell's grip tighten around her shoulders.

"I… I was jealous. I thought I was in love with her…"

"But she was in love with Papa," Farrell had said decisively.

"She was. And he with her. I was jealous. I rejected her friendship, her guidance… I didn't trust her, because I... couldn't have her for myself."

"How can we help you, Anders?" Melody had asked him. She knew how much Papa loved her Mama, and if Anders had felt the same way, she felt very sorry for him.

"Accept my promise… my oath. I'll be your servant, and I won't let you down. I may not deserve it, but I ask you to trust me, anyway."

"We will think on it," Farrell had replied before Melody could even gather her thoughts properly.

That's when Justice had ordered them to go to the bridge, and now Anders seemed in a panic that the spirit would leave them.

 _I have granted you this last boon_ , Justice said.  _You must now find your own peace, as I have found mine._

"I won't see you again?" asked Anders.

 _You will not_ , Justice said, and he turned and walked away.

"So what do we do now?" asked Melody.

Farrell was looking at the retreating figure of Justice with narrowed eyes. Finally, he turned back to them and said, "We go to the bridge."

* * *

"Farrell," Melody said, peering up at him as they walked side by side.

It was so odd looking down at his sister. Not long ago they'd been the same height. "You okay, Melody?" he asked.

She nodded. "I just don't understand why our clothes still fit us if we've grown," she said as she tugged at her tunic. "It doesn't make sense."

Anders laughed before Farrell could reply. "It's the Fade, sweetheart," he said. "Nothing makes sense here."

It  _was_  odd, Farrell thought. As they descended the low hill toward their dreaming spot, Farrell came to a stop and turned to Anders. "Do you think Elgar'nan will appear again?"

Anders considered his question for several minutes before responding. "Last time he appeared, you and Melody were on the bridge together. Maybe if one of you stayed behind?"

Farrell nodded. "That's just what I was thinking." He pulled Valora from his back and said, "I'll wait here."

He watched Anders follow Melody to the bridge, while at the same time keeping an eye out for any appearance of Elgar'nan. His thinking was conflicted in so many different directions, and he had to admit it was upsetting his usual confidence. Despite that spirits and gods and tricksters were taking such a keen interest in them, he couldn't quite shake the more tactile evidence that was walking down the hill, in the form of his taller, more slender sister. Anders kept insisting there was no time in the Fade, and yet, somehow, while they slept, time had passed for them. A great deal of time, because Melody looked more like a girl of ten or eleven; a year, maybe two, older than she'd been when she'd fallen asleep. Her comment that their clothes still fit them continued to niggle at the back of his mind.

He could feel the changes in himself, as well. It had taken quite a bit of searching to find the stone bridge, and as they'd walked Farrell had noticed a lengthening of his stride. His legs were longer, surely, because now he stood several inches taller than his Melody.

Why? How could this happen?

A more important question, however, was how much time had passed since they'd come into the Fade. How much time had passed for their parents… If they'd been gone over a year?

"What is that?" Anders voice came drifting up to him.

Farrell pushed his wayward thoughts away and focused on what was happening below him.

He thought Melody must have said something, but Farrell could not hear her softer voice.

"It doesn't look like the last time," Anders said, and Farrell watched as he walked to the middle of the bridge and seemed to look toward the copse of trees on the other side.

Melody ran up and took his hand. She tugged at it, trying to pull him back the other way. Now her voice rose in volume as she said, "Hurry Anders!'

Anders looked down at her, and then allowed himself to be led back toward Farrell.

When they had made their way back to him, Farrell asked, "What did you see?"

Anders scratched his chin. "It was odd. I don't think it was the gods," he said musingly.

"But you don't know for sure," said Melody.

Farrell huffed and repeated, "What did you see?" His patience was barely controlled.

"In the little woods," he said," It looked like a shimmering pool of water hanging vertical among the trees."

"Is that it?" asked Farrell.

Anders looked down at him with a puzzled frown. "It looked like there was someone in the water, looking back at me."


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've strayed deep into the mythology of Thedas, but I promise, there is more action and fluff to come! Hope you're enjoying the story :)

Elgar'nan's staff was raised and his expression strained. "If only… the boy… would come… closer…"

"My love, you must stop this," said Mythal as she approached him. "When has your anger ever profited your efforts?"

Elgar'nan huffed and lowered his staff. "What would you suggest? These children are our only chance to break free of this prison."

Mythal did not answer him, but instead turned to Ghilan'nan and said. "My dear, will not you help us?"

Ghilan'nan's sad eyes lingered long on the Mother of the gods before she spoke. "The mortals are better of without us," she softly said.

"How can you speak so?" asked Elgar'nan. "Look what degradation and humiliation the elvhen have endured since Fen'Harel's betrayal!"

"Do you not remember?" asked Ghilan'nan. "That if we are freed, so shall be the  _others_?"

Mythal frowned. She did remember the others. Too well. The names of the Forgotten Ones ran through her mind. Geldauran, Daern'thal, Anaris… She shuddered.

"We are strong," said Elgar'nan in his great booming voice. "They cannot stand against us."

"Can they not?" asked Ghilan'nan. "The long wars…"

Mythal spoke then, despite her reservations. "Would you have us bound and caged into eternity then, with never a chance to make the attempt?"

Ghilan'nan hung her head and did not answer.

* * *

_**EXCERPT FROM THE LOST JOURNAL OF SHARTAN** _

_Speculations of the Nature of Divinity_

The Maker created his First Children, and also created for them, the Golden City. At first, he was pleased and reveled in their adoration after being alone for so long. It was not long, however, before his disappointment grew as he realized that, although they were gloriously made, they lacked his divine spark. His children had no souls. They had no urge to create, despite that he had given them everything they needed to do so. In his disappointment, he expelled the spirits from the Golden City and sent them into the surrounding Fade.

He had learned what he wanted, what he needed in his next creation. He must put a part of himself, his own divine nature, into this new reality. Yet, as he created the sun and the moon and Thedas, something unexpected occurred as he poured forth the essence of his divinity. The spark he had unleashed coalesced and formed into immortal and divine beings – gods themselves, though lesser than he. Yet they were beings with great power and a free will of their own.

Elgar'nan and Mythal came into being, as well as their equal and opposite counterparts, The Forgotten Ones. At first, the Maker was so intent on his new creation, he did not realize the import of what he had done. Life, in all its beauty arose upon Thedas, and he was glad.

The First Children, however, could see through the Veil into Thedas, they were jealous of these new creatures, and were hungry for the divine spark they carried in their souls. The spirits soon found they could reach these newer, lesser children in their dreams.

In the heavens, Elgar'nan and Mythal found that together, they were much more powerful than they were alone, and began to lend their efforts to each other. Some of the Maker's children in Thedas came to their attention. The gods loved these new people, and endowed them with many gifts: Magic with no blood price, near immortality, and the ability to walk the Fade in awareness as they slept. These people became different from the other mortals of Thedas – they became the Elvhen.

Elgar'nan and Mythal's union was prosperous, and produced two sons and three daughters. The Creators, as the Elvhen called them, were as devoted to the people as the people were to their gods. It did not come without a price, however. The others (Gildauran, Daern'thal and Anaris) The Forgotten Ones of terror, malice and pestilence – were forever making war upon the gods of the Elvhen, and in their efforts, corrupted many of the peoples of Thedas, inciting them to make war upon the Elvhen.

Aiding their cause, though unknowingly, were the spirits of the Fade, who were coaxing the living into the Fade while they slept. Without the protection of Falon'Din, (the Dalish god who guarded the elvhen as they walked in the Fade), some spirits became corrupted by the darkness contained in human hearts.

Thedas was forever caught in a struggle between these greater forces.

Eventually, The Forgotten Ones realized there would be an eternal impasse between themselves and the Creators. Anaris was chosen to sacrifice himself in an act of great power that would strike past the Creators defenses and allow them access to the living creatures of Thedas. Of all the creatures, Anaris chose the dragons, for their size, their power and their ability to fly high above the lowly two-legged beings. And so as Anaris was destroyed, the Old Gods were created in the form of seven Great God Dragons. Dumat, Zazikel, Toth, Andoral, Urthemiel, Razikale and Lusacan – beings of flesh and power, that had never been seen before upon the face of Thedas. For a time, they ruled the skies and terrorized the scattered peoples of the lands.

Up until this point, the Maker had been pleased with his creation, despite some of the unexpected consequences of putting so much of his own divinity into it. Yet as time passed, his concern grew as these lesser gods warred among each other and harmed his people.

The Old Gods, as the great dragons were known, could not be allowed to spread such terror and wanton cruelty on his children. The Maker could not truly unmake these beings of darkness, which were nonetheless, a corrupted form of his own divine essence, but he could bind their flesh. Deep under the earth, he caged them, where they could no longer do harm.

When the Maker next looked upon Thedas, he saw that the living ones who called themselves the Elvhen were prospering far more than any of the other peoples across the many lands. Elgar'nan and his brethren protected the Elvhen above all others, and allowed them glimpses into the Power and Mystery that belonged rightly to the Maker, alone.

The Maker grew angry with these lesser gods once again, and grew weary of the constant wars between the Creators and the Forgotten Ones. And though he could not unmake them without harming himself, there was something he could do.

It was then that Fen'Harel first came among the gods – he came as their peer, and with promises to bring peace to the Heavens.

Fen'Harel then, went among the Forgotten Ones, with promises to lend his power in destroying the Creators.

Both the Creators and Forgotten ones trusted him and followed his council. The Dread Wolf tricked them and locked them away in heaven, and in the abyss.

Without their gods, Arlathan soon fell to the Tevinter Imperium, and the Elvhen people were enslaved. Their culture, the language… all was lost to them.

Over five-hundred years later, the Magisters attempted to enter the Golden City, only to find it had turned Black.

The Maker turned his back on his creation after such an evil had been committed.

It wasn't until nearly two-hundred years later, when the Maker first heard the sweet song of Andraste singing his praises, that he decided to tend to his children once more…

* * *

Fen'Harel watched the scene on the bridge from his vantage beneath the trees with some satisfaction. The children upon whom so much depended had shown unexpected wisdom. He slowly nodded his great head in approval that the brother stood guard well away from the bridge.

Ah, the mage was looking toward him. That was good. Would he see the hermetic fissure he'd created in the fabric of the veil? Fen'Harel clamped down on the laughter that threatened to erupt from his chest as he saw the young Ranger and the mage peering at each other through his impenetrable rent. What fun these mortal beings could be at times.

It seemed his dear little Melody would have none of it, however. She was tugging at the mage's hand, pulling him away from the scene. A lost chance, then. Perhaps it was just as well. He did not think the children were quite ready for the next step along their path.

* * *

"A bit to the right," Hawke said. "Stop! It's there, right in front of you."

"I can't see anything," said Merrill.

"It's there all right," said Hawke.

Merrill lifted her staff and slowly extended it in front of her. She let out a surprised, "Oh!" when the gnarled wood met resistance.

"What's happening?" called Hawke from where she stood with Fenris. Erynon was with the Keeper, standing calm and alert.

Carefully, Merrill pressed her staff more firmly into the air. Again, it was as if she'd been poking at a stone wall, though her efforts made no sound. "There's something here," Merrill called back. "Something solid."

Erynon moved in closer and extended his hand.

"No!" said Merrill, but the Ranger ignored her.

From where she stood, Hawke could see Erynon's hand pressed flat against the image of the bridge. He ran his hand along it until he reached the leaf-littered ground. He turned to the keeper and said, "Throw some magic at it."

"What?" Merrill said in astonishment. "Erynon, that would be foolhardy and dangerous."

The elf simply shrugged his shoulders.

Hawke turned when she heard tramping through the underbrush coming from behind her. Varric, Isabela and Pardus were making their way towards her, and as they approached she could hear Varric whistling a lively tune.

"Having a party without us, Hawke?" he asked.

"We've found… something," Hawke replied. "Not sure what, though."

"Really, sweet thing," said Isabela, "it's not fair to leave us behind to die of boredom if there's something going on."

Hawke winced. She loved Isabela, she really did, but sometimes her flippant remarks were a bit much. As if her friend had read her thoughts, she said, "Sorry, Hawke… I didn't mean."

Hawke didn't quite trust herself to reply, so she waved Isabela off with a hand and turned back to Varric. "Just in time, my trusty dwarf," she said in an attempt to lighten her mood. "Bianca's services are required."

Varric pulled his crossbow from his back and winked at Hawke. "Who am I shooting?" he asked, and casually pointed Bianca at Isabela.

Hawke laughed. "Not a  _who_ , but a  _what_ ," she said.

It took some time for Hawke to arrange Merrill and Erynon on either side of the invisible  _wall_. It had been another few minutes before she was able to position Varric in a spot where he could see the shimmering bridge among the trees.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Hawke?" asked Fenris. "If this is a tear in the Veil, we do not know the possible consequences of such an action."

Hawke turned to him. "I know, but we have to try. If there's anyway we can break through…"

Fenris nodded, pulled his sword from his back and walked toward the other two elves. Once he was in position next to Merrill, he lifted a hand to signal they were ready.

"Okay Varric, make it count," said Hawke.

* * *

"Describe what you saw," said Farrell. Try as he might, the trees were too far away for him to see anything more than, well – that they were trees.

"I was just standing there, when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye," Anders explained. "Like I said, it looked liked a pool of water, but it was not on the ground, it was  _in the trees_."

"And you saw a person?" asked Farrell.

Melody crossed her arms over her chest. "It could have been Elgar'nan," she insisted.

Anders shook his head. "It wasn't. It was an elf."

An elf? "What… what did this elf look like?" he asked. He thought of his father, and the hope that sprang into his chest caught him off guard.

"Well, there were the ears, of course," said Anders with a smirk," and his hair was a reddish brown."

As quickly as it had come, Farrell's hope was dashed.

"The elf was a  _he_?" asked Melody.

"I think so. It was hard to tell the way the image was shimmering and wavering."

"I want to go down there," said Farrell.

"But what about the gods?" asked Melody.

"You go first with Anders," Farrell instructed. "Go straight to the trees, don't linger on the bridge. Once you're there, I'll follow."

"Why don't you go with Anders, and I'll follow?" asked Melody stubbornly.

Farrell hefted his crossbow in his arms. "Valora," was all he said.

* * *

"So, what do you want, Hawke?" asked Varric. "A triple shot? Or how about a little spark to heat things up?"

Hawke couldn't help but grin at Varric's cheekiness. She had no idea what this thing was, or what might happen if they, well, broke it. She didn't even know if it was possible to penetrate it… whatever it was. Maker, it made her nervous that they were acting on so little information, but Melody and Farrell could be on the other side of it somewhere. She couldn't afford  _not_  to act.

"No fire," Hawke told him. "Not yet."

"Triple shot it is then," Varric replied after he had set the bolts and lifted Bianca's site to his eye. "On three." He pulled back the bolts and set his finger to the trigger. "One… two…  _three_."

Bianca certainly was a marvel. Three bolts flew successively from Varric's crossbow faster than Hawke could track them. She watched, fascinated, as the bolts shattered, and to her eyes it appeared they did so in thin air. Merrill and Erynon both ducked to avoid the flying splinters of wood.

"What is that thing?" Varric asked as he lowered Bianca. "Those bolts would have cut clean through a bronto's hide."

"It's probably some sort of weird Fade magic," said Isabela carelessly.

"Which means we're going to have to use magic to break through it," added Pardus.

"What we need to do right now is…" said Hawke. She began to walk toward Fenris and the other two elves, "…mark where that…  _thing_  is so we can find it again once we figure out a better plan."


	18. Chapter 18

They'd just finished clearing and marking the area around the  _window_  and were preparing to return to camp. Merrill thought it a good idea to gather everyone together to discuss this newest development, and for once Fenris agreed with her.

Hawke, however, still stood before the shimmering air staring into the Fade. He understood why she had no desire to leave this place, but simply watching it would accomplish nothing.

As the others drifted away, Fenris stood behind Hawke and settled his hands low on her hips.

"Where are they Fenris?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "If only I could see them - know they're all right."

Hawke's distress caused him nearly as much pain as his missing children did, but he attempted to reassure her nonetheless. "Perhaps we will find a way through," he said soothingly, " and will bring them back to us."

"There is no enemy to fight," she said, as if he had never spoken. She turned her head to look up at him. "No bad guys to kill."

Fenris wrapped his arms around her waist and gathered Hawke to him. "We will…" he began, but stopped when he noticed movement from the corner of his eye.

Hawke must have seen something in his expression, because her head whipped around and she gasped.

"Fenris," she breathed. "Someone's coming."

There  _was_  someone walking towards them on the other side of the barrier – two shimmering figures in fact. His heart began to beat a hard cadence in his chest, and Hawke's hands tightened on his arms in a death grip.

It wasn't long before the soft chocolate curls of his daughter became apparent – but there was something not right. Her hair was much longer, and her face was thinner.

It was then Hawke screamed, "Melody!" and she tore away from him and pressed her entire body against the solid, shimmering air.

His daughter began to run, and was soon pressed as hard against the  _window_  as her mother. Melody's mouth was moving, though he could not hear her words, and tears streamed down her face.

Fenris felt paralyzed. His baby girl… It appeared she had grown, and she looked so much like her mother that Fenris felt answering tears begin to well in his own eyes.

Hawke was sobbing, clawing at the barrier that kept her from her daughter, while Melody's name spilled from her lips over and over again.

Movement again caught his eye, and it was then Fenris noticed Anders standing behind Melody. For a moment a fierce rage threatened his control, until he saw that the mage was not watching Hawke and Melody. Instead, he had his staff lifted and was scanning the area around them. He was protecting her?

The sound of Hawke's wrenching sobs pulled at his heart, and his focus returned to his daughter. He slowly lifted one hand and pressed it to the  _window_. Melody looked at him then, and she tried to press her hand to his.

"Papa." He could see the word form on her lips, and it was almost more than he could bear.

"My Melody," he growled on a choking sob, and he felt his markings begin to warm. To be so close and unable to reach her…

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Hawke knew she had to get herself under control. It was not good for Melody to see her this way. As she watched father and daughter press their hands against the barrier trying to reach each other, she began to draw in slow, deep breaths. For the first time since seeing Melody, she glanced up at Fenris, only to see tears pooled in his eyes, and her internal struggle increased.

It was at that moment that Farrell came into view. He was approaching them slowly, cautiously, and he had Valora held at the ready. She sucked in a deep breath. He was so tall! It felt as if the ground titled beneath her as she realized that somehow, in the weeks they'd been away, her children had aged several years. How had this happened? The pain threatened to engulf her again, and she reached for Fenris to keep her feet.

Hawke clutched Fenris tightly as her son came clearly into view and she saw that Farrell was wrestling with his own strong emotions. Yet there was something about him, some strength of purpose in his now older features, that finally soothed some of the fear and pain within her. A new feeling arose in her breast, and it was pride in her son.

Farrell came to stand next to his sister and he looked at them with such longing in his eyes. Hawke was actually able to find a smile for him when he shifted Valora and rested a hand on Melody's shoulder. She saw his lips form words as he gazed steadily at her and Fenris.

"Mama. Papa."

She heard Fenris growl an answering response, and for a while the four of them simply stood soaking in the sight of each other.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

It had been a difficult process, but after the initial shock of seeing his children again, Fenris had begun to question them as best as he could. Hawke also seemed to regain her strength from the mere sight of her children, and soon the four of them were deep in a soundless discussion. Lips moved in precise enunciations, while hands gestured and heads nodded or shook.

What they learned did nothing to appease his fear for them, but he was somewhat appeased by Anders' constant vigilance behind the twins. The mage did not try to interfere, did not even attempt to communicate with Hawke, other than one brief nod in her direction. Fenris did, however, see his expression as he continued to stand guard. It was a face filled with pain, and though Fenris felt no true empathy for him, he did feel a brief moment of satisfaction that his children were not completely alone. It surprised Fenris that he felt this way, but there was no time to examine the feeling as he focused on the task of interpreting the twins' nonverbal speech.

Apparently Elgar'nan was continually attempting to break into the Fade, and his power to do so had something to do with Melody and Farrell's presence on the bridge. Farrell had also seen the Dread Wolf again, and something Melody had sang to Anders had summoned the spirit of Justice. The oddest, thing, however, was that the twins were not only hungry and needed to eat, but that when they slept, they aged at an alarming rate. It was all very difficult to make sense of, but Fenris did his best to commit what they communicated to memory so that they might later discuss it with the others.

His thoughts were interrupted as he saw Hawke bring her fingers to her lips and then press them to the window. It was such a sad, sweet gesture, that it compelled him to place his hand on top of hers. Melody and Farrell reached for their joined hands, and for a long time they all simply sat there with the slim but impenetrable barrier between them.

Anders had been pacing with his back to them, and Fenris had almost forgotten the mage was there, when suddenly there was a flurry of movement. Shades began to arise from the ground surrounding his children, and he could see Anders shouting and gesturing to the twins. Hawke abruptly stood and pressed both of her hands to the  _window_ , but at that moment shades began to arise from the forest floor around them, as well. Fenris rose to his feet and pulled his sword, his lyrim markings flared and a low growl sounded from his throat.

Hawke turned, and immediately they fell into their well-practiced battle routine. They sliced and dipped and tumbled over and around each other, as their blades whipped through the shades in a constant barrage. Fortunately these were garden-variety demons, and though there were nearly two dozen, it did not take long to dispatch them.

When the fight was done, it was Hawke's distressed voice that caught his attention.

"Fenris," she said as she walked like a zombie to where the shimmering air had once been.

It was gone.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Melody wished for more than her one, small dagger as she entered into the fight. As if reading her mind, Farrell pressed his own spare dagger into her palm before he lifted his crossbow and took aim. This was the first time they'd been attacked by demons in the Fade, and she was increasingly alarmed as she realized they were being herded toward the bridge.

Suddenly, a strong arm encircled her waist and she was lifted into the air. "Anders!" she shouted, and wriggled in an attempt to break free of his iron-like grasp. They could not leave Farrell alone among so many enemies.

If Anders' intention had been to move her away from the bridge, however, his plan went awry. A rage demon appeared to block their path, and Melody felt the heat from its burning body singe her arm.

"Let me down!" she shouted, and as Anders released her, she flipped through the air as Mama had taught her and brought her daggers down into it's the demon's back.

When her feet touched down, to her chagrin, she was standing on the edge of the stone that led up to the bridge. Farrell was backing toward her, and she was horrified to see he only had three bolts left in his quiver.

Fireballs began to explode around them, and soon she and Farrell were forced even further up onto the bridge as they continued to fight the never-ending onslaught of demons.

The stone beneath them began to tremble and Melody found herself caught with her brother between the demons and the gigantic form of Elgar'nan now materializing into the Fade.

Anders shouted, "No!" But there were dozens of shades between them, and it was all the mage could do to hold his own.

Melody lost sight of Anders as he threw up a wall of ice with his staff. Her attention was drawn back to the apparition appearing behind her, as Elgar'nan lifted his great staff and boomed "Tu Reth Sahlin'an!"*

 Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

With the god's words, a yellow-white barrier of energy surrounded the bridge, and the shades caught within it seemed to explode into dust that floated harmlessly in the air. The rest pushed up against it, but to no avail.

Farrell put himself between Melody and the god, and with steel in his voice asked, "What do you want of us?"

She always wished that she was as brave as Farrell, and for the first time, instead of admiring his courage, she felt an answering spark within herself.

Elgar'nan was finally fully materialized now, and Melody stared up at him in some awe. His hair was long, impossibly white and nearly feathered at the ends like the wings of a bird. His face was young, and his body strong, but his eyes were deep, blue wells of memory that held the passage of many long eons. The great staff he held was topped with a swirling, blue orb. Melody nearly choked when he smiled at her, and his intense gaze seemed to bore into her very soul.

"The children of the hawk and the wolf," he said with some satisfaction. "You must know what I want."

"We know you want to be free," responded Melody, her courage thankfully still intact, despite the size and power of the god before her.

"We've been warned not to help you," added Farrell. "And we have no reason to, even if we did know how."

"Ah yes," said Elgar'nan. "Fen'Harel has warned you against me. Why is it, do you think, that he trapped us in the heavens? How would he benefit from our imprisonment? Have you considered this?"

Melody felt her face grow hot as anger now fueled her courage. She was so very tired of these gods and their riddles. "We don't know!" she practically shouted. "Maybe it was your stupid wars!"

"Melody," Farrell said, and laid a hand on her arm.

"No, you're sister is correct." The god released a long, low chuckle. "It is past time for riddles," Elgar'nan continued, and for the first time there was a gentler expression on his face. He almost appeared sad. "Listen well, dear children, for the fate of Thedas rests in your small hands."

* * *

_*Elvhen for "Make safe this place here and now."_


	19. Chapter 19

**FROM THE JOURNAL OF VARRIC TETHRAS**

I have to admit I was worried when it took so long for Hawke and Fenris to get back to camp. The looks on their faces when they returned did nothing to set my mind at ease, I have to say.

The good news was that they'd seen the twins – had actually been able to "talk" to them through that weird window into the Fade.

But there was an awful lot of bad news.

I couldn't decide which was worse; being stalked by Dalish gods or aging a few years every time they slept. Both were pretty creepy, if for different reasons. I know how I felt about it, so I can't imagine how Hawke and Fenris are dealing with any of it. I seriously wanted a pint or two or ten. The elvhen wine they have around here might taste better, but it's just not the same as a frothing mug of ale.

Hawke said Melody and Farrell had been attacked by shades just before the window vanished. I don't know what to think. All of this magic shit just isn't my thing.

There has to be some way to help those kids. I miss my little sparrow and Farrell, and would be willing to go into the Fade myself if it would bring them back to us. All the years I've written Hawke's story down in these pages, I was always able to find the joke, or make it all seem like a grand adventure. Nowadays it's about all I can do to struggle through the telling. It worries me that I'm losing my touch.

There was one more piece of news, and I might be the only one who'd put it in the "good" column. Blondie is with them. Yeah, I know he made a lot of mistakes, and I know that using the word "mistakes" is putting it too mildly. You have to understand how much I really liked that blighted mage before Justice started ruling the show and turned him into a certifiable lunatic. I really don't think Blondie would ever let anything happen to those kids, especially with Justice gone from his head. Andraste's ass, he was a  _healer_ , and he did it for free from the goodness of his own heart. Remember I put it down here.  _Goodness_.  _Heart_.

Right now Hawke, Fenris and Cúel are holed up with Merrill in her aravel. Knowing Hawke, they won't come out until they have a plan.

* * *

"It finally came," Merrill said. She set a slim leather volume on the table. "It came in with the last shipment of supplies from Cumberland."

"What is  _it_?" asked Fenris impatiently.

"It's Keeper Marethari's spell book," replied Merrill. "I sent word to my old clan and explained that your children were dreaming of the Dread Wolf."

"Merrill?" Hawke asked as her trembling fingers rested on the worn leather.

"Yes, Hawke, it's in there," Merrill said.

Fenris was growing frustrated that he was the only one who didn't understand what they were talking about. " _What_  is in there?"

When she looked at him, Hawke's eyes were shining with excitement. "Marethari's ritual. The one she used to send me into the Fade after Feynriel."

Before he could respond, Merrill said, "But there's a problem." She opened the book and settled one long finger on what looked like a list. "Most of what we need, Cúel can prepare for us, but there is one thing we're missing."

"What is it?" asked Hawke. "I'm sure we can…"

"We need an anchor," interrupted Merrill. "Marethari used Feynriel's childhood home, but we are far from Starkhaven."

"Must we return to the city after all?" asked Fenris, a worried frown on his face. He was torn between the excitement of finally going after his children, and his intense dislike of the magic that must be used to accomplish such a thing. He also did not like the idea of a long dely. Travel would be even more difficult now that the first snow was beginning to fall.

"No," said Hawke. "There must be another way. And anyway, the palace is hardly their childhood home. We spent as much time aboard ship as we did in Starkhaven." The look she gave Merrill brooked no argument. "What exactly does it say?"

Merrill lifted the book and began to read. "Of utmost importance is an anchor. It must be an object that will attract the trapped mortal, and provide those who venture into the Fade with a means to find their way back through the Veil. The anchor must be a physical thing, and also something that is utterly familiar to the one who is trapped. Living beings cannot be used, as it will cause permanent mental damage."

Merrill looked up. "That's all it says."

As was usual for Hawke when there was a problem to solve, her eyes got that faraway look and her face lost all its expression. Fenris was so used to it that he allowed himself to relax, and let his gaze wonder over her. It was something he never tired of; his Hawke was as beautiful to him now as she had ever been. He watched her mouth intently as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth, and despite everything that was going on, it drove him a little bit crazy. His gaze continued to wander and dropped down to her throat, and then followed the silver chain down to the vee of her shirt. There, nestled between her breasts was the moonstone he had given her so very long ago. It caught the flickering light from the candle on the table and shimmered in bright orange and buttery yellow. In all the years since she'd first put the necklace on, he could not remember ever seeing her without it. An image of Farrell nursing at his mother's breast arose in his mind. Both of the twins used to wrap there little hands around the pendant as they nursed. Hawke used to laugh and say how glad she was that she'd bought such a sturdy chain.

Suddenly Fenris sat bolt upright in his chair. "Hawke!" he said, his voice filled with excitement.

"What is it Fenris?" she asked, and looked at him in some alarm.

He reached forward and lifted the moonstone from her breast. "Here is our anchor," he said.

**STARKHAVEN**

"Guard Captain, thank you for coming," Sebastian said to Aveline as she entered his office.

"Of course, Prince Vael," Aveline replied. "What can I do for you?" She noticed the lines of stress around his mouth, and wondered if he'd had word from Hawke. She didn't let herself think about Donnic. For the past few months, she'd done a lot of  _not-thinking_  about her husband.

"Please, Aveline, we are friends," he said. "In this setting, I'd prefer you call me Sebastian."

Aveline nodded her head once, but did not reply.

"I do need your help," he said. "It's Bethany."

"Is she well?" Aveline asked, thinking of the baby growing inside the princess. She'd purposefully been avoiding Bethany for just that reason. Her own inability to conceive was exactly why she spent all her nights alone now.

"Physically she is fine," said Sebastian.

"You've had word from Hawke," supplied Aveline. She pushed down the fear that threatened her composure and stared steadily at the prince.

"Yes," he said, and shook his head sadly. "I know of no gentle way to say this. Melody and Farrell have gone missing."

"What?" Aveline said, and now she felt guilty because she was relieved the bad news was not about Donnic. "How did this happen?"

"Hawke suspects they have been drawn into the Fade," said Sebastian. "First Melody, and then Farrell."

"Maker," Aveline said and sat down in an empty chair. "They must be mad with worry."

"As is Bethany," said Sebastian. "Go to her Aveline. She needs a friend right now, and I cannot be with her." He sighed. "I'm meeting with several heads of state this afternoon."

Was she Bethany's friend? Aveline wasn't sure, but they'd known each other a very long time, and she owed it to Hawke, if nothing else. She rose again from her seat.

"I'll go now," she told him.

"Thank you, Aveline."

* * *

Bethany sat alone in her bedchamber as she reread her sister's letter for perhaps the tenth time. It had been written several weeks ago, and she was mad with worry over what might be happening now.

_Dearest Bethany,_

_I have sat with my pen poised above this blank parchment for nearly an hour, having no idea how to tell you what has happened. The last thing I want to do is alarm you, my most beloved sister. In your condition, I would not upset you or the babe now nestled safely inside you._

_Yet selfishly, I can only think of how much I want you with me._

_Out with it, then. Over a week ago, Melody and Farrell were both drawn into the Fade by some unknown power. Melody had gone missing on her way to fetch Isabela for me. You must understand the guilt I feel for having sent her out on what should have been a simple errand that morning. The regret in my heart is only overshadowed by my fear for my children. When Melody did not return, we took a search party out to the forest. There is a young man named Erynon, one of Merrill's clan, who is a Ranger, and he followed her trail until it disappeared._

_Farrell was acting strangely. He saw lights in the sky none of the rest of us could see. I should have listened to him, gotten him away from there. Yet I was too focused on finding my daughter and did not pay him proper heed. I can hardly explain what happened next, but there was some sort of magical explosion, and as the rest of us were tossed about the field, Farrell was pulled into the Fade._

_Now they are both gone, and it is only Fenris who keeps me on my feet and facing each day without them. He and Erynon search the forest relentlessly, but to no avail._

_I had to stop for a moment and compose myself again. I know that giving into the grief and the fear will not help them, but I know you understand how I am constantly on the verge of breaking down. I have never in my life felt so powerless. There is no clear path, no one to fight, nothing to DO. You know me well enough to understand how this threatens my very sanity._

_There has been some discussion of returning to Starkhaven to consult with the Circle, but my heart bades me not to leave this place. So for now, we will continue to search, though I have little hope. Each night when I attempt sleep, I pray that I will at least see them in my dreams. If only I could know they yet lived, it would give me the strength to go on._

_Yes, I have been selfish to write this letter to you. There is nothing you can do, and I am only causing you unnecessary worry. Please forgive me this weakness._

_I will send word if the situation should change – whether is be the recovery of my children, or that we will decide to come to you._

_Otherwise, everyone here is well. Donnic asked that I include this small note to Aveline. Would you be kind enough to give it to her?_

_Please keep us in your heart, dear sister. I love you and miss you so very much. Give my love to Sebastian and Malcolm._

_Mari_

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Bethany called through her tears.

The fiery red hair of the Guard Captain poked around the door. "Am I disturbing you?" asked Aveline.

Bethany lifted herself from the chair and rushed to the door. She took Aveline's hand and pulled her into the room. "No, I'm very glad to see you Aveline. Come in, please," she said. Perhaps she and the Guard Captain had never been close, but other than her own sister, she'd known Aveline longer than anyone else.

"Sebastian told me what has happened," said Aveline, and Bethany was relieved that her forthrightness belied explanations on her part.

"I…" Bethany began, and swallowed back her tears before continuing, "I don't know what to do."

The two women moved to the chairs by the fireplace and sat down.

"As much as I hate to say it, Bethany, there isn't much we can do," Aveline said.

 _Always pragmatic to the last_ , thought Bethany. "I hate that you're right," she said.

"The best thing you can do is to take good care of yourself," said Aveline. "You know that's what Hawke would want."

A fresh bout of tears slid down Bethany's cheeks. "I have something for you," she said, and pulled Donnic's letter from her pocket. "It came with Mari's letter."

* * *

Aveline immediately recognized Donnic's scrawl of her name on the letter. What disturbed her most was the way her hand trembled as she reached to take it from Bethany.

"If you'd like some privacy…" Bethany offered.

"No!" Aveline said more forcefully than she had intended. She very much did not want to be alone with this letter, which surprised her. Her fingers continued to quaver as she broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. She glanced quickly up at Bethany, before looking down at the so familiar handwriting.

_Aveline,_

_I will not be polite or vacillate in my meaning. We have known each other for far too long, and have been husband and wife for most of that time._

_I miss you desperately._

_I was so angry when I left you. Angry at myself, and enraged over your behavior. But I've realized something in these path months. I would live with your frustration and pain, rather than live without you._

_Have I failed you as a husband? Is it my fault we do not have a child? I don't know anymore, and in truth, it matters not._

_All that matters is that I can have my love in my arms again. I would say making this journey was mistake, because I have been of little use here. But if the only result is that is allowed me to truly know my own heart, it has been worth it._

_On the day that I am once again able to return to Starkhaven, my only hope is that it will be to your waiting arms._

_All my love,_

_Donnic_

Aveline carefully refolded the parchment and tucked it into the gauntlet strapped at her belt. She looked up at the princess, and felt the tears swimming in her own eyes.

Bethany offered her a sad smile, and in that moment, Aveline finally broke through the wall of ice that surrounded her heart, and began to cry in earnest. Even when she'd lost Wesley, she had never once lost her composure, but it seemed this day was full of surprises. Soon the two women were kneeling before the cold fireplace in each other's arms.

They stayed that way for a very long time, crying and soothing each other's grief. When at last they arose, and Bethany ordered lunch be brought to them, Aveline could hardly understand the mixture of joy and grief that filled her heart. So she held onto the one thing that could save her from the maelstrom of feelings thrumming through her.

Donnic still loved her.


	20. Chapter 20

Erynon had been relegated to the duty of Cúel's errand boy, it seemed. He was constantly being sent out to the fields and the forests in search of ingredients for the ritual that would send Hawke and Fenris into the Fade. The Keeper had said that as many as four people could go, and Erynon wanted to be one of them. But with so many of Hawke's friends to choose from, he knew his chances were slim to none.

Truthfully, he wasn't sure  _why_  he wanted to go, because he was not a mage, and though skilled enough with his bow, neither was he a warrior. What good would his tracking skills or his knowledge of plants and animals do anyone in that dreaming place?

He didn't want to admit why he wanted to be part of the ritual, so he did his best to think of other things.

It was a cold morning as he sat whittling shafts for his depleted arrow stock. The sun was shining and the snow of the last few days was quickly melting, which created a fog that hung low to the ground. When Fenris came striding through the mist toward him, Erynon was surprised. Fenris was a man of few words, and most of them seemed reserved for his wife.

When they'd first come to the clan several months ago, and brought so many shemlen with them, Erynon had perhaps hated Fenris most of all. Here was an elf, a warrior, mated to his pretty shemlen wife, with two half-blood children. It had seemed almost a personal affront to Erynon, considering that it was filthy humans who had killed his mother and father. That one of the Elvhen would betray his own people that way had filled him with disgust.

To make matters worse, they'd forced their daughter upon him for training, which had brought up the horror of his own past more painfully than he'd felt in many years. He'd wanted to hate her, and for a short time, he'd succeeded. Until that day she'd looked up at him with her lovely dark eyes, and told him no one could help how they were born. There'd been so much understanding in her expression, so much generosity in her tone, he'd found his hatred could not stand against those things.

Erynon had remained reluctant to teach her, but had soon found her to be such an eager, clever student, that his reticence had eventually faded to a mild annoyance. If he were honest, he'd admit that it was mostly because she was so young. Despite her obvious skill, he often felt like no more than a babysitter.

It wasn't until after she'd vanished and he'd realized how much he was afraid for her that this uncomfortable feeling of caring had become clear to him. Try as he might, ignore it as he would, he could find no peace. Melody was missing, and he found he could not bear it. It had driven him out into the forest day after day, relentlessly searching for some clue, or some small hint of what had happened to her.

He'd thought it was troublesome enough that he'd come to care for a half-blooded shemlen child who he should've rightly hated. He wouldn't have believed the situation could be any more complicated, until he'd seen her through that blighted window into the Fade. His heart had nearly stopped when he'd seen she was no longer the little girl who'd been following him around for those months. She was older, years older. Her round face had thinned out and her chocolate hair lay around her shoulders in soft waves. As if gifted with a second-sight, Erynon had seen in that moment the extraordinarily beautiful woman she would soon become.

Now, here was her father, approaching him with a serious expression on his face. They'd spent a lot of time together these past weeks, searching for Melody and Farrell, and Erynon had grudgingly come to respect this man in more ways than he could count. Unlike some members of his own clan, Fenris did not immediately disregard Erynon's opinion simply because of his youth. He also had a stillness about him, a calm certainty in his movements and speech that did not interfere or interrupt Erynon as he was tracking. Perhaps more than anything, however, it was Fenris' way with Hawke that struck him the most. He'd been only six years old when his parents were killed, but Erynon remembered clearly the devotion and affection between them. He did not like to admit that Hawke and Fenris reminded him of them, but it was true nonetheless, and Hawke was a shemlen. He could hardly understand it.

For long moments, the two simply stared at at each other, neither speaking.

What Fenris eventually said surprised him again.

"I have not thanked you properly for your efforts to find Melody and Farrell," he said in that deep, gravelly voice of his. "Without you, I would not have this chance to rescue my children."

What could he say that would not give away his own uncomfortable motivations? So he did the thing everyone always expected of him and shrugged. "It's what I do," he said.

Erynon thought he saw a small smile curve Fenris' lips, but it was gone so quickly he thought perhaps he imagined it. "You hold yourself very close," said Fenris, "and yet your eyes betray you."

"I don't know what you mean," Erynon said quickly. He had the overwhelming urge to shut his eyes, but forced himself to keep them upon Fenris and attempted to glare as best he could.

This time the older elf's smile was obvious. "You care about what happens to my daughter. Do not bother to deny it," he said, but then his face grew serious. "Whatever it is that you hold inside yourself, think carefully. Do you truly wish it to define your whole life?" He shook his head and looked down at his feet before adding, "At some point, you will have to trust again."

"You know nothing about me," Erynon countered. He felt his buried anger rising to the surface.

Fenris didn't waver, but resumed his steady gaze. "I do not," he agreed and he took a few steps closer. "But know this. I was once a slave, and I remained a slave long after the chains were broken. Someday you must make a choice to free yourself, Erynon."

"I was no slave!" he said, defensively. He felt nervous, as if this man could see inside his soul into places he hid, even from himself.

"No?" Fenris asked. "There are many types of slavery. Remember that." He turned and walked back through the cold mist before Erynon could think of a proper reply.

Suddenly his breakfast felt very heavy in his stomach, and the hand that held his carving knife was trembling. He wanted to be angry with Fenris – to hate him as he had at the first. Yet he knew this shakiness, this uncertainty was not the fault of Melody's father. Fenris had simply spoken the truth, and it wasn't his fault that it was a truth Erynon had attempted to deny his whole life.

Erynon rose quickly and ran behind the aravel, where he immediately lost his breakfast. In his weakened state, as he knelt sick and shaking on the frozen ground, he could not stop the image of Melody that arose in his mind.

What was he going to do?

* * *

"No," said Melody, her hands firmly placed on her hips. "We will not listen to you until you help Anders."

Elgar'nan shook his head. "To what purpose? Now that we are together, the mage is of little consequence."

"He's our friend," said Melody, stubbornly. "Maybe you don't understand because you don't have any!"

Elgar'nan stamped his staff on the stone, which caused the bridge to tremble under their feet. "Who are you to give orders to a god?"

Farrell spoke up then. "From what you've said, you need our help to free yourselves from the heavens." He took a step closer to his sister.

"Even in this lesser form, I could smite you where you stand, boy!" his great voice boomed.

"Do it!" shouted Melody. "Why would we help you if you won't help us?"

Elgar'nan's brow lifted in astonishment. "Are you so eager to be sent to the void, for the sake of that broken soul?" He lifted his staff in the direction of Anders, who was battling a never-ending barrage of shades. Melody could see he was growing weaker by the minute.

She glanced at Farrell, who after only a brief hesitation, nodded.

"Do what you will," said Melody, "but we will not help you unless you save Anders."

Elgar'nan's frown deepened as he stared down at them. "Such curious children," he muttered, mostly to himself. "Very well." He lifted his staff again and Melody watched as the circle of energy around them began to expand. As the spell magnified, reaching out for its target, the demons were vaporized into dust.

"Don't hurt Anders!" she practically screamed, afraid the power of the god would vaporize him as well.

"Quiet child," the god said, and she could see that his form was more transparent than it had been moments ago.

Soon, Anders stood leaning heavily on his staff, but all of the shades were gone. He remained outside of the circle, though, which had begun to contract.

Elgar'nan turned back to them. "Now you will listen," he said, and it wasn't a question. "For I have nearly exhausted my power."

 _How could a god exhaust his power?_  Melody thought, and she opened her mouth to ask, but Elgar'nan once again thumped his staff on the stone.

"Listen!" he boomed.

She thought perhaps she had pushed their luck far enough for now. She reached for Farrell's hand, and felt comforted by his returned squeeze.

Elgar'nan spoke. "When Fen'Harel first approached us, we knew not from whence he came. Falon'Din, Dirthamen, Andruil and Sylaise had all been created through the union of Mythal and I. And yet, neither was June our child. He had come to us a god in his own right - one who we had accepted among us gladly. Fen'Harel's appearance was not without precedence.

"At first Fen'Harel seemed to understand our plight clearly. He said he had been among the Others, and knew how we finally could win our long war – finally bring peace to the realm of the gods. He spoke with such certainty and authority, and treated Mythal, and I with such deference and respect, we thought we had found a new ally as we had with June.

"Fen'Harel revealed his plan to us. He said we need only retreat to the heavens for a time. That by doing so Fen'Harel would gain the trust of the Others, and he could then forever trap them in the abyss.

"Only Ghilan'nan was suspect of him. She had once been mortal and did not trust this new god, but that story is a long one and must wait. We decided to put our trust in Fen'Harel and retreated to the heavens where the Others could no longer sense our power. They would think us destroyed, and Fen'Harel could then gain their trust and trick them into the abyss for all time.

"We should have listened to Ghilan'nan. We should have known his talk of trickery could be as easily used upon us." He shook his head and his expression was rueful. "You know the legends and the results of our choice."

Melody did know, but she also knew Farrell had studied the legends much more than she. She turned to her brother, a question in her eyes.

Farrell said, "You haven't told us how my sister and I fit into this."

Melody was surprised that Elgar'nan did not grow angry, but instead, he looked suddenly old and weary.

"Only Fen'Harel knows the truth of this," he said. "We simply sensed your power as you dreamed. But what you must know is that…" he stopped for a moment and leaned heavily on his staff. His figure began to grow more and more transparent with each passing second. The god looked at them again with beseeching eyes. "What you must know is that, Fen'Harel is the Maker himself."


	21. Chapter 21

Once the shades were gone, dispersed by Elgar'nan he was sure, Anders leaned heavily on his staff, exhausted. He fixed his gaze on the two children standing before the god. Was it strange that he felt pride in them as he noticed their erect postures and defiant expressions? The only hint that they were still so young was their tightly clasped hands.

His vigor soon returned – this was the Fade, after all, and mana potions were a thing of the past. That's one thing he did not miss about being alive. Those potions tasted awful.

Slowly, he made his way to the sphere of energy surrounding the three, though he did not attempt to touch it, despite his desire to do so. As he watched, Elgar'nan's form began to become more and more transparent, but that wasn't the oddest thing. What confused him was the obvious look of pleading on the god's face. He strained to hear what Elgar'nan might be saying, but to no avail. Apparently the barrier blocked out sound. The god's mouth stopped moving only seconds before he winked out of existence and the energy field fell away.

Anders immediately noticed the shocked expression on the twins' faces. What had Elgar'nan told them?

* * *

Zevran blinked in surprise as Hawke came barreling through the door of his aravel.

"My dear Champion," he said and quickly stood, "What could be the matter?"

She stopped in front on him and folded her arms over her chest. "You're next on my list," she told him. She pulled a piece of parchment out of her pocket. "Yes, it says right here,  _Scold Zevran_."

Zevran smiled at her. "And why would I require this scolding, might I ask?"

Hawke shoved the parchment back in her pocket. "Before I leave to go into the Fade…" she began.

Zevran frowned. "Ah, I see that you will not take me with you," he said.

She studied him carefully for a moment. "Fenris and I have not yet decided," she said. "But don't change the subject."

"I beg your forgiveness," he said with a slight bow, and could see Hawke struggling to suppress her smile. Ever since it had been determined that Hawke and Fenris would actually attempt to go into the Fade after the twins, she had been more like her usual feisty self. He was glad, because he always enjoyed his dear friend's, how would Leliana have put it?  _Joie de vie,_  yes. He had missed that about her, so very much.

"You," she said and pointed a finger at him, "will stop being so stupid."

Zevran lifted a hand to his chest. "I will certainly do this thing for you, my dear Hawke."

"You will?" she asked skeptically.

"Of course," he replied. "You need only explain my stupidity to me, and I will rectify it immediately."

Hawke gave him a sly grin. "Promise?" she asked.

"I give you my word," he said, but was now feeling slightly nervous. The look on Hawke's face was the cause. She appeared very smug.

"Go to Cúel," she said.

Zevran felt his heart both sink and begin to pound unbearably hard in his chest. He had not expected this, although in hindsight, he should have done so. Hawke simply had a way of disarming him, which was somewhat disturbing.

"Perhaps you do not understand," he said. Before he could explain further, Hawke was shaking her head at him.

"You promised," she said with a frown. "No reneging."

"But you see, Cúel…"

"Not another word," Hawke insisted. "You are so obviously in love with her. Make it right."

"In love?" Zevran coyly questioned. "How could you know this thing that I do not?"

Hawke simply frowned harder and stared at him impatiently.

He swallowed against the sudden dryness in his mouth. "You believe this? That I am in love with her?"

"Zevran," Hawke warned. "Be honest with yourself. Go to Cúel and be honest with her." She looked down for a moment, and when her eyes returned to him they were shimmering. "I don't know if I'll come back," she confessed. "I'd like to know the people I care about…"

He could not bear the sadness in her eyes, or the thought that she might not return. Could he face these feelings he'd been pushing away for these many weeks?

"Go," Hawke said again. "It will only get harder if you think about it."

He remembered what she'd told him before. That once you knew love, there was no other ground to stand upon. Was he ready for such a step? Would he ever be?

"Go," Hawke repeated. "Now."

After everything he had been through since he'd been sold to the Crows at seven years old, this was the hardest by far. As he moved to the door, seemingly unable to deny her command, Hawke surprised him. She drew him into her arms and gave him a soft peck on the cheek.

"You can do this," she whispered.

* * *

Cúel was grinding yet more herbs in her mortar. Her hand ached with the constant, repetitive motion, and she stopped for a moment to bathe it in healing magic. The relief was instantaneous and she released a long sigh.

A voice came from the doorway of the aravel. It was one that she both dreaded and hoped for – Zevran.

"They work you too hard, my rose," he said.

Cúel did her best to make her voice sound brisk. "What do you want, Zevran?"

She regretted the words almost as soon as they'd left her mouth. Ever since that day he'd kissed her in this very aravel and accused her of using magic on him, they'd both been avoiding each other. Yet, she'd noticed the way he always watched her, as if she were a riddle he was attempting to solve. Now, she had just unwittingly opened the door to more of his sultry teasing. Considering the serious nature of her task, she wished she had simply ignored him.

Zevran's catlike footsteps came nearer, and she stiffened, but kept her attention on the spindleweed in the mortar. When his hand covered hers, she could not stop the soft gasp that escaped her lips, nor the heat that suddenly flushed her skin.

"Allow me to help you, yes?" he asked, and his voice, so near to her ear, caused her to shiver.

She forced a skeptical murmur from her throat and carefully said, "These herbs must be prepared with a skilled hand." She bit her lip as she realized she'd given him yet another opening, but once again, he surprised her.

"Granted, my skills have been applied to making poisons," he told her, "but I have much experience grinding the herbs."

The way in which he'd said  _grinding_  caused Cúel to quickly turn her head and look at him. There was a serious expression on his face, but she also saw the glimmer in his eye.

"What is it you think you're doing?" she asked him. "I have no time for your love-games. This is important."

Did she imagine that he winced slightly? She wasn't sure, but she did know that she shouldn't be looking at him with his face so near to hers. She glanced down at his mouth and remembered so clearly how it had felt covering hers. With a slight shake of her head, she put her attention back on her work.

"You mistake me," he said in a near whisper. "Perhaps you are not aware it is my desire to save them, too."

Cúel didn't want to trust the sincerity in his voice, but she couldn't deny that he spoke the truth. She'd seen him with the twins many times. They seemed to adore the strange elf they called "uncle."

She glanced back at him again. "You really know how to do this?" she asked, and gestured with her free hand toward the mortar.

"Yes, my rose, I truly do."

It would make the work go so much faster. She refused to listen to the small voice in her mind that insisted she wanted to keep him near her. Finally, she nodded and slipped her hand from beneath his. From the cupboard above her head, she retrieved her spare mortar and pestle, as well as a pouch of dried elfroot.

"The elfroot must be ground into a fine powder," she instructed. "The consistency must be perfect."

"Of course," said Zevran. "This, I can easily do."

Cúel finally looked at him again, and was about to actually thank him, when he moved so quickly he caught her off guard.

"There is, however, a simple matter I must first attend to," he said before his mouth descended upon hers.

Creators help her; she knew she should pull away. She knew it most assuredly in her mind, but her body had a different idea, entirely. She blamed it on shock and surprise when her mouth parted for him, and allowed his tongue to slip inside and meet with hers. His hands came up to caress her jaw before he slipped his fingers into her hair and drew her closer.

Cúel was hardly aware of what was happening to her as his continued assault on her mouth overwhelmed all thought. In that moment, she couldn't imagine why she had resisted this, could not fathom how she'd gone so long without his touch. So lost was she in sensation, that she barely registered the cooler air on her back, until his fingers began to caress the exposed skin he had somehow revealed.

She nearly pulled away then, and had begun to actually do so when a blossom of heat exploded low in her belly. Instead, she moaned.

As if that moan were permission to further his explorations, she now felt cool air on her chest, and then his hand slid slowly along the swell of her breast. Cúel mewled in her throat as his fingers ran lightly back and forth over her hardening nipple. She might have begged him to pinch the hard peak if she'd been willing to release his mouth, but she needn't have worried, her desire was granted.

How long it went on, Cúel didn't know. When Zevran finally did pulled back slightly from her and stilled his hands, she could have screamed her frustration. She tried, in fact, to capture his lips again, but his hand lifted to sooth along her jaw before his fingers pressed to her lips.

"My rose," he said hoarsely, "there is something I must tell you."

He wanted to talk when her body was burning alive in need of him? He must have noticed the glare in her eyes, because he chuckled softly.

"I will grant your every wish," he vowed, "and fulfill your ever desire. But first, you must listen, yes?"

Her thoughts were beginning to return and she realized her robes were pooled around her waist. She flushed with embarrassment, but somehow managed to nod.

"Good. This is good," he told her in that honeyed voice of his. "I play games no longer." He paused and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. "As I said, it is a simple matter, really. I offer myself to you, my beautiful Cúel, body and soul." His eyes seemed filled with a new light as he finished. "If you will have me, you will make me the happiest of men."

* * *

Farrell was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. He trudged along behind Anders and was jealous of his sister who was riding on the mage's back. They were searching for a safe place to rest, if there was such a thing in the Fade. The canyon they'd found before seemed to have turned into a marsh, so now they were climbing up a steep hillside he'd never seen before.

How long had they been walking this time? How long since Elgar'nan had disappeared and Anders had come rushing to them? There was no way to know in this blasted, timeless place.

For what felt like the hundredth time, Anders asked, "Are you sure he said Fen'Harel was the Maker?"

Farrell only grunted. For some unknown reason Anders continued to doubt what they'd learned from the god.

"There's an awful lot of missing information if it's true," Anders insisted. Farrell didn't really care at this point. Although he knew he should not, he only wanted to sleep.

"Why would the Maker want to lock the Dalish gods away? If he's all-powerful, why didn't he just destroy them?" It seemed the mage's questions would never end.

"Elgar'nan didn't say," replied Farrell wearily. "Perhaps he didn't know why."

"And what about Andraste and the Exalted Marches?" Anders speculated. "She's supposed to be at the Maker's side now." Anders stopped so abruptly that Farrell nearly ran into him. "You haven't seen a woman with the Dread Wolf have you?"

Farrell sighed. "No, he's always been alone."

Anders shook his head and resumed walking. "It just makes no sense," he said as if to himself.

As the crested the hill and looked down into the valley on the other side, Farrell's spirits lifted. Below them nestled against the hillside was a long, low cabin.

"What is that?" asked Farrell, rubbing at his eyes.

"I don't know," replied Anders. "I've never seen it before."

"Let's have a look," Farrell said and increased his pace.

Farrell half expected to find the building infested with demons, but that wasn't the case. Instead, it appeared as if someone had prepared this place for their arrival. There were neatly made beds and a variety of food heaped upon a long table: Fat, ripe peaches, red and golden apples, sliced, cold ham, and several loaves of brown bread. Farrell dipped his finger into a pot and pulled it out to watch golden, syrupy liquid run down his hand.

"Honey," he said.

Melody stood next to him, looking at the feast with wide eyes. "Do you think it's safe to eat?" she asked.

"Fen'Harel's work, no doubt," said Anders. "Or the Maker, or… whoever he is."

"The food he gave us last time didn't hurt us," she said and reached for an apple.

Farrell couldn't argue that. He was so tired and so very hungry that he tore off a hunk of bread and stuffed it in his mouth.

"Are you sure that's wise?" questioned Anders. "It may be another of his tricks."

"We need to eat, even if you don't," said Farrell as he reached for the pot of honey. "If it is a trick, you won't be affected, anyway."

Anders frowned but made no further protest.

After they'd had their fill, both he and Melody crawled into the soft beds. Anders stood at the door, gazing out at the bucolic landscape. "I'll keep watch," he told them.

The last thought Farrell had before he drifted off to sleep was a question. "How old would he be when he woke up?"

 


	22. Chapter 22

Zevran gazed down at the woman dozing in his arms, her delicate features so beautiful in repose. Her silky hair had escaped from its bounds, and seemed intent on clinging to everything it touched. He wanted to slide it away from her face, but did not want to disturb the sweet smile that even now curved her lips.

Though he'd led a very full life and made love to many others, regardless of race or sex, nothing could compare to what he had just experienced. Never before had he so lost himself in another. He'd given no thought to skill or technique as he'd drowned in pure sensation. Cúel was not merely a mage, she was magic incarnate, and she had caste her spell upon him without the use of mana. Each touch of her fingers, each taste of her flesh, each exquisite sigh that spilled from her lips, had wrapped around him like a cocoon; one from which he never wanted to emerge. For the first time in his life, he'd felt truly at one with another.

Once he had pushed past his fears, the sultry magic of his beautiful rose had taken him to places he had not known existed. It was as if for his entire life, he'd only ever eaten bread, plain and unadorned, never knowing that butter and honey existed at all.

Was Hawke correct? Was this love? He remembered the ballads Leliana had once sung for Alistair and his dear Warden, and thought perhaps he finally understood.

Cúel stirred in his arms, and her beautiful eyes, blue as the sky on a summer morning, peered up at him. The smile on her lips grew wider, and he leaned down to place a soft kiss upon them.

"As much as I would prefer to remain in this very comfortable bed with you…" he began, and he finally gave into the temptation to brush the silken strands away from her face.

Cúel lifted a hand and traced the tattooed pattern on his cheek. "We must get to work," she finished for him.

"Yes, my rose, it is true," he agreed. "The ritual is set for tomorrow."

They arose from the bed and dressed, each helping the other with ties and buckles, and allowing their hands to linger for just a while longer. Zevran was glad Cúel did not feel the need to engage in conversation, but instead fell happily into an easy camaraderie with him as they resumed their task. Everything he needed to know was in her satisfied smile and in her sparkling eyes.

Not much later, Merrill returned to the aravel to find them working diligently on the many herbs that still awaited preparation.

"Zevran," the Keeper said in surprise, and shot Cúel a questioning glance.

Cúel only smiled at Merrill and said, "It turns out that our roguish friend here is very skilled with his hands."

Zevran's hearty laughter filled the aravel.

* * *

When Anders heard the stirring from the beds tucked back into the corner of the cabin, there was a moment when he felt loathed to look in their direction. He almost didn't want to know if, or how much, the twins had aged as they slept.

"Anders?" Melody questioned sleepily, and he knew he could avoid it no longer. He plastered a neutral smile on his face, determined to keep it there as he turned to face her.

When he first saw her sitting on the edge of the bed, blearily rubbing the sleep from her eyes, he felt the oddest mixture of shock and relief. She had not aged so very much, which he was certain was the source of his relief. Perhaps a year, maybe two; he thought she appeared to be about thirteen or fourteen. The shock was of a very different nature, because when he'd first looked upon her, for a moment he'd thought it was Hawke sitting there. The emotion that filled him from the sight of her left him speechless. It was Hawke, as she had been the first time they'd met, when she'd come to his clinic in Darktown looking for maps of the Deep Roads. The only difference was the chocolate brown hair curling in waves down her back. Hawke had always kept her hair so short, like a boy.

"Anders?" Melody asked again. "What's wrong?"

Apparently his neutral expression had not withstood the sight of her. He did his best to smile in reassurance, but the truth slipped from his lips before he could stop the words. "You are the spitting image of your mother," he said. Much to his discomfort, he felt those same feelings of hope and wonder that Hawke had once stirred within him so long ago.

Melody stretched out her arms and inspected herself warily. "I've grown again," she murmured.

Before Anders could respond, she'd leapt from the bed and was at her brother's side, shaking him.

Farrell stretched, yawned and asked, "What?" Yet as soon as his gaze rested on his sister, his eyes flew wide. Anders thought that he had seen Farrell's lips form the word _Mama_ , though he heard no sound.

As Farrell sat up to grab his sister by the shoulders, Anders got his first good look at Fenris and Hawke's son. His hair had grown as well, into an unruly mop that that now brushed his shoulders. It was thick, shaggy and a rich, golden blond that reminded Anders of the first blooms of goldenrod in the autumn. He definitely resembled his father, especially around the eyes and the nose, but it was nothing close to the eerie similarity between mother and daughter.

"I don't care what happens," Farrell said vehemently as he glanced between Melody and Anders, "we are not sleeping again."

* * *

Merrill kissed Hawke's cheek and nodded to Fenris as he held open the door of the aravel for her to depart. They'd just spent hours going over every aspect of tomorrow's ritual, and his mind was filled with an overload of information. Could they do this? Would it work? Marethari had been a wise and skilled Keeper, but Merrill? Did he truly trust her with something this important? The very lives of his children were at stake.

His eyes rested on Melody and Farrell's empty beds, and his resolve hardened. He would do whatever it took; risk everything and anything, to rescue them from the Fade.

"Fenris," Hawke called. "Come here."

He moved to the back room where Hawke sat on the edge of their bed.

"Sit," she commanded, and there was a serious expression on her face, which made his heart jump. As soon as he was seated next to her, her fingers began to work at the ties of his shirt. "You're much too tense."

After she'd removed his tunic, her fingers began to work at the tight muscles in his back. She kneaded and pushed at him with her fingers, careful to avoid his sensitive lyrium markings as best she could. He released a deep breath and gave himself over to her ministrations.

Fenris had finally felt himself begin to relax, until her soft voice spoke at his ear. "You did not come into the Fade with me to rescue Feynriel."

"No," he agreed, and he took a deep breath. "You took Isabela, Varric and Anders."

"You were angry with me, if I remember right," she said gently.

"I wanted to protect you," he said. "But you were afraid of my reaction to so much magic." He turned to look at her, and her hands stilled on his back. "I am going," he said decisively.

Hawke smiled at him. "Of course you are. But still, I worry…"

"Do you worry over my markings? Or is it something else?" he asked.

She slowly shook her head and laughed ruefully. "I'm not sure. I just… I don't want you to be hurt."

Fenris turned his body toward her and wrapped his arms around her. Hawke rested her head on his shoulder, and he felt the sigh she released as she accepted his comfort. "We will protect each other, Hawke," he said in a low, rumbling tone. "And we will save our children."

For a while, neither spoke as they held each other, and Fenris' hands drifted up and down the length of her back. Her solid presence, her concern for him and her own resolve to rescue the twins, all helped to settle his mind and his heart. He was just considering that he would prefer to touch the soft skin under her shirt when Hawke spoke again.

"We must choose who we will take with us," she said, and lifted her head to look at him.

He'd known this decision was coming, and he had very definite ideas over which two of their companions he would choose. He was not sure that Hawke would agree with him, however. He asked her, "Would you like to go first?"

She scrunched up her face and asked, "Are we going to argue? Because I have better things in mind for the rest of our evening."

That made him smile, but he said, "And yet, we must decide."

Hawke nodded. "Yours is the only sword we'll have, regardless," she said. "Other than Donnic, we are overrun with rogues."

"And we will not take Donnic," he said. Fenris could not imagine a soldier would do them much good in a place like the Fade.

"No," agreed Hawke.

"The question remains then, which of the rogues will we choose?" he asked her.

"Only one," she said. "And I will leave which one up to you."

Puzzled, he asked her, "You would take one of the clan then?"

"Yes," she breathed. "I would take Erynon with us."

This surprised Fenris, because he, too, had thought to choose Erynon. Usually very rational in his choices, he could not have explained to Hawke exactly why choosing the young elvhen ranger felt right to him. That she felt so too, helped put his mind at ease. "I agree," he said.

Hawke opened her mouth as if to argue, then narrowed her eyes at him. "You do?"

"Yes," he replied. "And now I will choose our final companion."

Hawke laughed. "Oh no you don't. First you explain why you picked Erynon, too."

"I cannot say for certain," he told her honestly. "Perhaps it is the way he so diligently searched for Melody and Farrell when everyone else had nearly given up."

"Yes, there is something about him, surly though he is, that seems…" Hawke shook her head, unable to go on.

Fenris, however, was able to say what she could not. "He is relentless, much like someone else I know." He smiled at her, and brushed the bangs away from her forehead.

"Surely not me?" she said, laughing. "I would have said you."

"Perhaps we are both of a relentless nature," Fenris said. "Would you like to hear my second choice?" he asked.

"Hmm, if I don't agree, we'll argue this one instead."

"I believe we should take Zevran with us," Fenris told her.

"Not Varric?" Hawke asked.

"Was that your choice?" he asked in turn.

"Actually, no. I thought you would choose him, though," Hawke said. "A dwarf in the Fade is a near anathema. I was going to try to talk you out of Varric."

"And talk me into who?"

Hawke looked up at him sheepishly. "Zevran," she whispered. "We need someone very sneaky, who isn't Isabela."

Fenris laughed, remembering the last time Hawke had taken Isabela into the Fade. Though he knew lightening rarely strikes twice in the same place, he was not willing to take that particular risk again. "There will be no argument, then," he stated serenely.

"No arguing," Hawke agreed. She lifted her hands up to his chest and looked up at him very prettily, her eyes filled with mischief.

"You mentioned you had something else in mind," he prompted her. It was a little game they often played, how they danced around the one thing on both their minds.

"Yes," Hawke said as she leaned in to bring her mouth close to his. "Someone needs to wash the dinner dishes."

"Of course," he said as he rubbed his cheek against her in a slow, sensual motion, and then suddenly made to rise. Before he'd taken a full step from the bed however, Hawke had her arms around his waist, tugging him back. They tumbled together onto the soft mattress, and Hawke had him turned and was sitting on his stomach before he knew what happened. "I cannot reach the dishes from here," he told her seriously.

"No," she agreed. "You cannot." She grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. Fenris forgot all about the game playing, as his hands seemed to lift to her breasts of their own accord, while Hawke reached beneath her hips to the ties of his pants.

Far into the night, the two lovers came together, and no dishes were ever done.


	23. Chapter 23

Erynon was returning from the forest, making his way carefully across the field, every sense on high alert. Even though the ground was hard and frozen beneath his feet, he could hear the field mice burrowing and scurrying in their underground warrens. Above him, a hawk circled lazily in the sky, it's piercing cry sending a shiver down his spine. He'd risen early this morning to take one last look at the area in the forest where he'd found that strange window into the Fade. Keeper Merrill would enact the ritual at sundown this very day, and he'd wanted to make certain there was no other path to help Melody and Farrell. The window, however, had not returned, and though he had not really believed it would, he'd felt a terrible disappointment nonetheless. Erynon tried not to admit to himself that he'd wanted to at least see  _her_  again.

Even more disappointing was the thought that he would be left behind. He did not fool himself into thinking that any of the adults would think a fourteen year old worthy or skilled enough to take on such an important quest. Why should they? In their place, he doubted very much he would choose him either. Knowing this did not, however, dispel the anxiety gnawing in his breast. Despite reason and logic, he felt he should go – needed to go. But how could he explain to others what he did not understand himself?

There were many things that Erynon could not understand about himself these days. Like why he would feel so compelled to help seth'lins and shemlens and dirty elvhen traitors, at all? How had one half-elvhen girl burrowed so deeply under his skin?

He thought back to what Fenris had said about  _choosing_  to be free. At the time, his words had made Erynon squirm in his own skin, as he'd attempted to endure the steady gaze of the tattooed warrior. Erynon had done his best to push those thoughts away. Well, after he'd finished vomiting behind the aravel, anyway. But the truth continued to haunt him. Was he  _choosing_  a life filled with anger and a need for bitter revenge? Was it really a choice rather than an irrefutable fact? He hadn't thought so before, but now?

A brief flutter of regret ran through him, and he wished he'd never met Melody Hawke or the rest of her mixed blood family. It had been so much easier to hate the humans - to know the source of his pain beyond a doubt. Now, who could he really blame? Just this one exposure to the Hawke family and his whole carefully constructed worldview was tumbling down around him. He did not know how he would find the strength to endure without his hatred to sustain him. Without his desperate need to someday make the humans pay for what they'd stolen from him, who was he but just another Dalish elf staying one step ahead of the slavers?

As if is thoughts had conjured them, Erynon saw Hawke and Fenris walking through the field together, hand in hand. It was too late to avoid them, and there was nowhere in this open field to hide even if he wished it. So, he set his shoulders and put his customary scowl upon his face. He may be filled with doubts, but he would not let them see his struggle.

"If you intend to check for the window, I can save you a trip," Erynon told them. "It hasn't returned."

Fenris only nodded, but Hawke smiled at him. It reminded him so much of Melody that he coughed to mask his sudden discomfort. What Hawke said next, made him want to turn and run from her knowing gaze.

"You check every morning," she said softly. There was no question in her words – she knew.

Erynon swallowed hard and tried to say something in protest, but failed. Hawke and Fenris exchanged a glance, and Fenris nodded again, much to Erynon's confusion. What were they playing at? He looked down at his feet, trying to gather his thoughts into some order.

"Erynon," said Hawke, calling his attention back to her face. "We need your help."

At first he felt his anger rise again, but as he glanced between them, their calm, serious expressions stopped the bitter words from forming in his throat. He supposed that they probably needed him to gather more herbs for tonight's ritual. Again, he thought back on Fenris' cautioning words. It was a choice – one he could freely make. The knowledge that he must make the attempt came suddenly. He would try for  _her_  sake, if for no other reason.

Even so, his words came out surlier than he had intended. "What do you need now?" he asked.

There was that smile again on Hawke's face again, and he wondered if it were at all possible to insult this human.

"Will you come with us?" she asked. "Into the Fade?"

Erynon opened his mouth and closed it again. Was she serious? By the Creators, he would have never believed…"

Hawke was either oblivious to, or ignoring, what he knew must be a shocked expression on his face, because she continued on as calmly as before. "Fenris and I both agree you are the right choice, and we hope that you will help us rescue our children."

Still, Erynon could not find his voice. He'd wanted desperately to go with them, but could not understand why they would think him a better choice than so many who were older and better skilled than he.

As if reading his mind, Fenris said, "No one has been more diligent in the search than you."

Erynon's head jerked up, and he blurted, "What do you mean?"

Hawke reached out and soothed a stray lock of auburn hair from his brow, and he was surprised he did not mind her touch. "She's attached to you," Hawke said. "She spoke of little else before she…"

The look of pain that crossed her face as she referred to Melody's disappearance caused Erynon's heart to beat hard in his chest. After the way he'd treated her, how could Melody be… attached to him? Why would she be?

"Erynon," Fenris said in his deep, gravely voice. "It matters not what face you show, Melody is her mother's daughter." He turned to Hawke, who smiled at her husband so beautifully, for a moment Erynon was nearly jealous. Fenris continued. "Her heart is true and cannot be fooled."

Erynon was hardly aware that he had begun to slowly nod. He caught himself, cleared his throat, and straightened his spine. "I will go with you."

* * *

Hawke approached her friends, where they sat gathered around a small cooking fire, trying to fend off the chill of the cold, winter wind.

"How much longer until spring?" Isabela complained as she rubbed her hands briskly over the flames. "I hate wearing all these clothes."

Hawke grinned at the way Isabela had pronounced  _clothes,_  as some would say  _manure_.

"Another month, perhaps six weeks," replied Hawke. She and Fenris sat down on an unoccupied log.

"Here is comes," said Varric.

"Here comes what?" asked Donnic.

Hawke studied the guardsman's face, seeing the new lines of stress that had appeared ever since he'd given her the note for Aveline. There had been no returned word, as yet.

"They've decided," announced Varric, "but from the looks on their faces, I'd say we're all being left behind."

Pardus said, "No surprise there," while at the same time Isabela questioned, "Hawke?"

"They're taking elf number two," said Varric speculatively. "But who else, I wonder?"

Hawke opened her mouth to reply, but Isabela cut her off. "Is this because of that desire demon?" she asked. "Because if it is…"

Hawke held up her hand to call a halt to the random speculation. "If you would all just listen."

Isabela made a disgusted noise in her throat, but remained silent as she tucked her hands beneath her armpits and scooted closer to Pardus for warmth.

"We know all of you would willingly go with us," she said, and held each of their gazes before continuing.

"Here comes the  _but_ ," said Varric.

Hawke shot the dwarf an exasperated look. " _But_ , Fenris and I agree that Zevran and Erynon are to come with us into the Fade, and they have both agreed."

"Erynon?" questioned Donnic. "He's little more than a boy."

"Why Zev?" asked Isabela. "He's not better with his blades than I am, and his hair's too shiny – you can see it a mile away."

Hawke didn't care for the hurt look on Isabela's face, but what could she do? She was trying to figure out what she could say to make it right, when Varric stood and piped up again.

"It's obvious their minds are made up," he said as he glanced between Hawke and Fenris. He turned back to the group. "So, we're going to make this harder on them?"

Maker bless the dwarf, Hawke thought. The last thing she wanted to do was hold a debate or provide lengthy explanations. "Thank you, Varric," she said simply.

Isabela's face still resembled a thundercloud read to burst, but she nodded.

"We'll be waiting for you when you bring them back," said Varric. "Then maybe we can get away from all this nature and back to a proper city."

Hawke lowered her head to compose herself for a moment before she said the words she knew she must. She felt Fenris slide his hand into hers and drew her strength from him. "We will understand if you'd like to leave now."

Donnic's eyebrows lifted hopefully, but Varric stated flatly, "No way, Hawke."

Isabela, however, jumped from her seat and threw her arms around her friend. "You'll bring them back," she said in a choked voice, "and we'll be here when you do."

It was all Hawke could do to hold back her tears.

* * *

Merrill was off with several other clan members preparing for the ritual that would take place that night. Cúel sat with Zevran, as they faced each other across the small table in the aravel's kitchen. Hawke and Fenris had left not long ago, and neither she nor Zevran had spoken a word since.

Cúel had wanted to protest when Zevran had agreed to go into the Fade with his friends, but she knew she had no right. Even though she'd just found him, even though she'd just spent a glorious night in his arms, and even though he'd offered himself to her body and soul, Cúel knew beyond doubt she could not interfere. She could not beg him to stay, as much as she wanted to.

"I am so very sorry, my rose," he finally said. "But I must do this thing."

Cúel only nodded, not trusting her voice.

Zevran reached across the table and took her hand. "You will forgive me this, yes?" he asked.

Her eyes flew to his. That he would think she was angry? That he thought he needed her forgiveness? She could not allow that. Cúel forced herself to speak past the tightness in her throat. "Of course you must go," she said, her voice thick. "Your friends need you. The children need you." She squeezed his hand briefly. "It's only that…"

When the silence stretched out between them, Zevran finally spoke. "Only that what, my beautiful Cúel?" he asked, and she could see a hopeful glimmer in his eyes, which gave her the courage to go on.

"That I've only just found you," she said, and shut her eyes tightly against the tears that threatened to fall. "I don't want to lose you."

Zevran was up from his seat and had pulled her up into his arms, before she could take a full breath. His hands stroked her back as he whispered close to her ear, "You will not lose me, this I promise you, my rose."

Cúel found she could say no more, so instead she wrapped her arms around him and clung to him fiercely. She could hardly believe how quickly this rogue had wormed his way into her heart, but there he was, just as if he'd been there all along.

 


	24. Chapter 24

* * *

Hawke sat crossed-legged on the bed, Fenris in the same position in front of her. How many times had they done this? Some of the most important conversations of their lives had occurred in just this way.

It was less than an hour before the ritual that would take them into the Fade, and this was their last chance to be alone. Even though she thought they should probably go over their plans one final time, they simply sat there, gazing at each other in silent understanding.

Fenris reached for her hands and gathered them between his own. "Hawke," he growled.

"I know," she told him softly. "We'll find them. Bring them home."

He lifted her hands to his lips, and pressed a soft kiss on her knuckles. "I need to tell you…"

Hawke could nearly read his mind. She knew what was coming. "Fenris, don't," she begged him.

He smiled at her, and his eyes shown with such intensity she felt her heart skip a beat.

"I must," he said. "I need you to promise me that Melody and Farrell…" his voice broke as he spoke their children's names, "that they will be your first priority."

Hawke shook her head. "All of us will return," she said with conviction. "I will not…"

"Hawke," he repeated, "you must listen. We know not what we will face. If there is a choice to be made, promise me you will save them."

"I…" She found she could not say the words. How could she ever make such a choice? Bound by love to all three of them, she would sooner sacrifice herself than allow the slightest harm to come to her family.

"Promise me, Hawke," he insisted, and he lifted his hand and ran his fingers lightly down her cheek. "We can not afford indecision."

As she gazed at her love, the tears shining in her eyes, an image arose in her mind: Fenris, standing in the Gallows before the fight with the Templars, that same expression on his face.  _Promise me you won't die, Hawke. I can't bear the thought of living without you._

So she told him now what she'd said to him then, though the words were difficult to get past the hard knot in her throat. "I don't make that promise unless you do."

For long moments he said nothing, but simply gazed at her with his oh so expressive eyes, his hand resting lightly on her throat. When finally he nodded, Hawke could not endure the distance between them any longer. She nearly threw herself at him and captured his mouth with hers. His response was the same as it always had been. Fenris locked his arms around her and opened himself to her fully. What was between them never had changed, and it never failed to thrill her with a sense newness. Ever since first time they'd kissed so long ago, as they sat on the log over the rushing stream, she'd felt this heady rush of love and belonging.

As Hawke surrendered to their building passion, she knew two things. She would keep her promise, but she would also, without doubt, bring  _all_  of her family back alive.

No matter what.


	25. Chapter 25

_Meanwhile, in another aravel…_

When Cúel had arrived at his door, Zevran nearly laughed at how quickly Varric and Donnic made their excuses and left. The dwarf was mumbling something about needing to talk to Hawke. Yet one look at his beloved's face quickly sobered him. Her periwinkle eyes shone with unspent tears, though a tremulous smile curved her perfect lips.

"My rose," he said and opened his arms to her.

Cúel did not rush to him, but instead, took careful steps until she stood before him. She gathered his outstretched hands into hers, and brought them to rest on her breast over her heart.

"I need to speak of the future, Zevran," she said without preamble. "What will happen between us if you return to me?"

Her words took him off guard, even as her concern warmed his heart.

"Tell me of this future you see, my lovely Rose?" he said with a teasing grin.

Her gaze dropped from his for a brief moment before she lifted her eyes back to his. He felt an answering well of sensation in his chest in response to the naked emotion he saw in her expression.

"I am First to Keeper Merrill," she said in her softly cultured voice. "I was rescued from a life of servitude by the clan, and my place is here with them." She brought their joined hands to her lips before asking, "Where is your place, my rogue?"

Of all the things he had thought she might say to him, Zevran had not expected this - so many thoughts and feelings overtook him at once, he was terribly confused.

Cúel attempted a smile as she watched him struggle, though he could see she fought back her tears. "Yes," she said, "I will not part with you until I know what you will choose."

"Cúel, I…" Zevran could not seem to find the words he needed. His usually glib tongue seemed to be failing him. Could he give up his carefree life and settle among the Dalish? A part of him scoffed at such a notion. Yet it was clear this is what she asked of him.

"Zevran," she said. "If my heart is to be broken, I would have it done. I will give you up now, or never shall we part." A single, glistening tear slid down her cheek as she spoke.

How could he answer her? How could he make such a commitment when he did not know if he would live or die? Finally, he asked her, "Why must we decide this now, my rose? I do not understand you."

Cúel pulled away from him and wrapped her arms around herself. He felt her absence intently, as if she'd done more than move a few feet away from him. There seemed a chasm between them now.

"It is simple, really," she said in a voice so low he had to strain to hear her. He took a step toward her as she continued. "This ritual – it is a greater magic than I have ever attempted. There can be no doubt in my heart if I am to aid the Keeper. My focus must be absolute."

Zevran considered what she said before replying. "Is not the surety of my love for you enough?"

Cúel shook her head sadly. "Perhaps it should be," she said. "Perhaps if I knew you would come back to me – knew we would have a chance…"

"If it is the will of your Creators, and my own, I shall return to you, in this I swear," he said, and reached for her again.

Cúel, however, eluded his grasp. "No," she said vehemently. "Can you not see? Either my heart is yours for all time, in death or in life, or not at all."

The war in Zevran's mind heated until he could hardly think at all. How dare she make this demand of him now? Issue an ultimatum on the verge of such a dangerous venture? In answer to his unexpected anger, came a softer voice, and for some reason it sounded like Hawke. What was more important than love? How could he live a single day without this woman in his life, in his heart? What did it matter where or how he lived, as long as his rose was by his side?

Cúel relented then, and reached for him. As if of their own accord, his arms pulled her close and he breathed in her scent. Something in him seemed to calm with her nearness.  _Who could really know the future?_  he thought. He was not committing to a life among the Dalish, he would be committing to a life with his perfect rose, wherever that may lead them. Another thought, a new one entirely, broke into his consciousness then. What if their gods returned to them? What if Melody and Farrell broke them free of their prison? What would life be like for the Elvhen then? And where else should he be, but with his people?

As if she could hear his thoughts, Cúel's touch became a gentle thing. She soothed the hair from his brow and leaned in close to his ear. "I am so sorry, my love," she whispered. "But I must ask this of you."

In answer, Zevran pulled away this time. He drew a small dagger from a hidden pocket of his armor and lifted it to his head. At first, Cúel's eyes widened in shock, until he brought the blade to his left temple and sliced off the braid of his hair at the roots. As he offered it to her, he said, "My heart is yours. Take this as a token of my undying devotion."

He watched as she ran her fingers lightly along the length of his departed hair, and he reveled in the soft smile that curved her lips.

If Zevran had expected more tears, or a rush of emotion from her, he would have been sorely disappointed. Instead, with calm, clear eyes, she reached into the pocket of her robes. She pulled out a copper bracelet, set with a single rune. "My heart is yours," she repeated. "Accept this token of my undying devotion."

Zevran accept the gift and eyed it curiously. "I have never seen this rune before," he told her. "You will tell me of it, no?"

"It was my father's," she said. "The only heirloom left of my family." Cúel took the bracelet from him and set it fast to his wrist. "The legend Papa told me was that the bracelet was a gift to my clan by Falon'Din, long before Arlathan fell." She smoothed her fingers over the rune, which looked like a simple  **X** , and brought her hand to his newly shorn temple. "When my people entered Uthenera, it was to protect them from losing their way."

"Uthenera?" he questioned, even as he admired the craftsmanship of the piece.

Cuel nodded. "It is a dream that is not death, but from which our people learned the secrets of the Fade and brought the wisdom back for all to share."

"My beautiful rose," he said. "This is truly a gift beyond price." He took her hand and brought it to his lips. The contact filled him with a sudden fierce, possessive wanting, and he knew he must taste her before he drew another breath. As his lips descended upon hers, Cúel reached up to him, and the kiss that ensued was a wild thing that neither could control.

As Zevran lost himself in her, one last thought penetrated his mind. If commitment felt like this, he'd gladly lock himself up and throw away the key.


	26. Chapter 26

**FROM THE JOURNAL OF VARRIC TETHRAS**

Once upon a time, I may have felt some guilt over not charging off with Hawke and Fenris to rescue the twins, but maybe I'm old enough and wise enough now to know I have no business going back into the Fade. Once was more than enough, let me tell you. I approved their choices of elf number two and the broody boy, but that's not the point. My only qualm is that I'll have to get that part of the story second-hand.

Lucky for me, I think Farrell will be a good first-hand witness – the boy has an eye for detail matched by few. I know they'll come back to us, without a doubt in my mind. I know it better than I know the stone. That might be because I don't know the stone very well, hehe. I've been a surfacer all my life, and happy about it, too.

Maybe my little sparrow and I will write a song about it – you never know.

For now, everyone is gathering for the ritual. At least I'll be able to tell this part of the tale with my usual talent, hehe.

All joking aside, even though I have no doubt those four will bring back the twins, what I wonder is, what will be the cost?

* * *

I'm going to do my best to describe this ritual without my usual urbane wit. I've never witnessed anything like it. Dalish magic is quite the spectacle.

I'd been watching the preparations the last few days, and I knew the layout of the scene well enough before I showed up. The center of the camp had been swept completely clear of the usual clutter, and a great circle of fir and holly branches surrounded the stone fire pit newly built at its center. I asked Cúel why those particular tree branches were chosen, and she said it was because fir and cedar kept their life-force strong, even throughout the cold winter months. She went on to explain that all living things contain a form of magic, but I admit I didn't understand much of what she said. I'm a dealer in details, not magical theory.

In the light of day, the preparations hadn't looked like much, but as the sun lowered in the sky and twilight descended, the whole place took on an otherworldly aspect – like we'd somehow shown up on the eve of the world's creation. Especially once the cedar logs in the center were lit and caste an eerie orange glow over the scene. The smell that arose as Cúel sprinkled herbs on the new flames sort of made me dizzy for a bit there. I could smell the elfroot, and maybe some spindleweed, but there were odors rising in the smoke that were completely foreign to me. Like I said, even from outside the circle proper, I felt like we'd travelled back in time to the first age or something.

An interesting side-note – one of elf number two's braids was missing from his left temple. I wonder what the story behind that is? I would have thought maybe they needed it for the ritual, but the other three had their hair still intact, hehe.

Once Hawke, Fenris, Zevran and Erynon were gathered by the fire in front of Daisy, Cúel began setting colorful wrapped bundles of herbs directly into the flames. I don't know what she did, but I was surprised her hand didn't catch on fire. Hehe, sorry – seems I can't refrain from my witticisms completely. More smoke and new smells filled the air, and I involuntarily moved back a step.

"Something wrong, Varric?" Rivaini asked, and I swear her eyes looked all dreamy and soft. I shook my head because I thought I was seeing things. Rivaini without a sharp, sassy gleam in her eye? I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself.

When Keeper Marethari did this ritual all those years ago, there was a lot less… dramatic effect. I asked Daisy about it yesterday – why all the crazy preparations when Marethari had done it with her staff and a few words.

"The Keeper used a simpler version of the old magic, which sent only Hawke's spirit form into the Fade," Merrill explained. "Cúel and I will perform the full ritual. We will draw on the power of the earth to aid us, which will allow us to send their  _physical_  forms into the Fade. It is a very old Elvhen magic, taught to the people long ago by Falon'din himself."

I love the way that there's this little lisp at the end of Daisy's words, hehe. To me, she'll always be the young elf we brought to the alienage, back in the day.

Next, Cúel walked the perimeter of the circle, speaking low in Elvhen, and it was as if the life of the fir and holly rose up to form a green, sparkling sphere. Translucent as it was, I could still see very clearly when Daisy lifted Hawke's moonstone in the air above the fire, and I swear by the stone, it stayed there, slowly spinning even after she took her hands away. Between the colors radiating through the circle and the pungent smell of burning herbs, it was all I could do to stay steady on my feet – and I was on the outside! I can't imagine what it was like for them inside of it all. I began to wonder if Daisy was going to send them into the Fade, or if she were going to bring the Fade right here into the middle of the Dalish camp.

That's about when Keeper Daisy and Cúel started chanting.

_Bora Sahlen_

_Lethalan, lethalen_

_Ena Setheneran_

_Shiral el'u era_

_Elgar'eth vir'vhen_

At least that's what I think they said. It had something to do with going into the Fade and returning home safely, from what she told me later. They repeated the Elvhen words so many times I lost count. Maybe it was because their voices rose in volume and picked up in speed, that the moonstone suspended above the fire began to spin like mad. What first started as a low thrumming sound emanating from the circle, soon escalating into a piercing whine so high my hands flew to cover my ears. I'm not shitting you. Through the kaleidoscope of colors swirling within the green sphere, I could see the forms of Hawke and the others begin to shift and then, finally, dissolve into nothing.

They were gone.

I heard Rivaini next to me whisper, "Hawke."

Daisy waved her staff in the air three times, and all the colors and sound disappeared from the night. It was full dark by that time, and the only evidence that anything had happened at all, was that spinning moonstone suspended over the fire.

We settled in to wait.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Farrell had just finished filling up the corners of his pack with all the extra food he could fit, when the door to the cabin swung open. Although he wasn't surprised, it was still a shock to see the great wolf saunter in through the doorway and casually sit on his haunches to face them.

At first, no one spoke, and for some reason Farrell wanted to grab his sister and bolt. He didn't trust any of the gods to deal with them fairly, least of all this one.

"My, how you've grown," Fen'Harel said, breaking the silence.

Before Farrell had a chance to do more than feel the heat of anger rise to his face, his sister was stalking up to the great, rangy beast, and in a fit of fury demanded, "Why?" She gestured down at her figure, now that of a young woman - the little girl was gone. "Why did you do this to us? You had no right!"

Fen'Harel stood and took a step toward Melody, and in seconds Farrell was at her side, a hand held out before him. "No closer," Farrell said in a low growl.

Suddenly Fen'Harel threw his head back and laughed in long, barking howls. He glanced at Melody, who looked back at him with wide, incredulous eyes.

"Such spunk and courage in the face of your Maker," he said in between several huffs of indrawn breath. When his eyes refocused on them, they glowed faintly red. "It is a foolish course of action."

"Why  _did_  you age them?" asked Anders as he came to stand between the twins. He held his staff out in front of them, as if it were a barrier the Dream Wolf could not cross. Farrell knew better.

"Why indeed," Fen'Harel said, but it was not a question. "Perhaps you will have an answer someday, but it will not be from me." There was a finality to his words that made Farrell baulk internally, but he kept his mouth shut.

"Why have you come, then?" he asked. Obviously the Maker was going to play it his way and there wasn't much they could do about it.

"I've come to tell you a story," said Fen'Harel. "After that? We shall see."

Fen'Harel sat back on his haunches and began to orate.

"My beloved Andraste freed the elvhen slaves from the tyranny of the Magisters.  _Her_  heart, at least, was pure. And yet she was betrayed by her husband Maferath, who in greed and jealousy had her given in sacrifice to the Imperium.

"The Magisters of Tevinter burned her at the stake in Minrathous. I can still hear her screams of agony, before Archon Hessarian ran her through with his blade, thus ending her worldly life and beginning her immortal life by my side.

"Yet once again, men in their corruption, have undone all that she accomplished. The Chantry has become a sanctuary for the wicked, the Templars their arm of oppression. And though I had not thought it possible, the Magisters have sunk further into evil as the long years have passed.

"If you wish to know why I abandoned Thedas, there is your answer. And yet, there was hope.

"In the timeless realms of existence, Andraste had a vision.

_I saw stretched before me all the daughters of my flesh, from the babe I carried to my death, through many generations. Behind me stood Shartan, his sons behind him, the same as my progeny. These daughters and sons began to move, to curve around us forming a circle, until at last the two met. My daughter the Hawke, and his son the Wolf. My daughter, whose heart was true, his son, whose loyalty to her was unshakable. As the circle closed and the two united, a great healing occurred - one made of a love so pure I was nearly blinded. When at last I could see clearly again, the Hawke and the Wolf stood together, and in their arms were two babes – the daughter of Andraste and the son of Shartan. I wept with joy, because these children had a power not before seen in Thedas – the power to heal - to restore a people and begin anew._

"I asked her, "Of what power do you speak?"

"She replied, "The power to free the gods from your prison." But no matter how hard I pressed her, she would say no more."

Anders snorted. "Can't you just read her mind?"

Fen'Harel bared his teeth. "Would you destroy a perfect rose to see how it was made?"

"What do you mean?" asked Melody.

Fen'Harel turned to the girl and his eyes seemed to glow even more brightly. "No soul can survive my intrusion. For me to do so is a fate worse than death, the result is an unmaking, an annihilation."

"Yet despite Andraste's vision," said Anders, "you attempt to interfere and prevent this great healing?"

Fen'Harel's mouth curved in a wide, toothy grin, but he did not speak.

"It's a test," said Farrell. "You play with us like rats in a cage to see what we will do."

"Clever boy," said Fen'Harel. "So tell me, with all you know, what will you choose?"

Farrell started to speak, but before he could, Anders said, "I always knew the Maker was a bit of a sadist. Why else would you allow mages to be born, and yet support a power structure that persecutes them?"

"The Black City," replied Fen'Harel.

"What?" Anders asked in outrage. "You create so much suffering over the actions of a few?"

"You do not yet understand," growled Fen'Harel, and the stiff hairs on his neck rose in anger.

"Anders," said Farrell, "it's simple really." He looked at the Dread Wolf through narrowed eyes. "The Maker cannot unmake any part of his creation without unraveling the whole."

The light of comprehension dawned in Anders' eyes. "And so you move us around like pawns on a chessboard, trying to manipulate us to do your dirty work."

"Careful, mage," said Fen'Harel. "Though the boy is correct that I can not unmake my creation, I  _can_  force your soul into constant torment."

As if to change to subject from this line of debate, Farrell cut in. "I read that Andraste had only sons, and all were killed in the war with the Imperium." He looked at his sister before adding, "How can we possibly be descended from her?"

"The Chantry chose to omit one small detail of that fateful day from their doctrine. You see, Andraste was with child when she was killed, and the child was torn from her dead body and yet lived."

"What!" exclaimed Anders. "That's barbaric!"

"Mortals do tend to barbarism, mage. I think you know this well," Fen'Harel said with bared teeth. "In remorse, Archon Hessarian spared the girl child and gave it to a family of lesser nobles to raise as their own. Thus you are descended through many mothers from Andraste herself."

Farrell wasn't sure how much of what Fen'Harel told them was truth, and he still hadn't reconciled in his mind that this creature was literally  _The Maker_. He considered carefully. Whatever this being was, he was powerful - and dangerous. His first priority was to protect Melody and get them both out of the Fade and back to their family.

At that moment, several things happened at once. Farrell's scalp began to tingle, and at the same time, his sister gripped his arm tightly.

"Farrell..." she began.

"Ah," said Fen'Harel. "We have company."


	27. Chapter 27

Hawke was falling. It was very different from the last time she was sent into the Fade, when her vision had merely blurred and she'd found herself standing in a distorted version of the Templar hall. This time she was spinning through a black void, and caught only glimpses of her companions – Fenris' shock of white hair was the most visible. She tried to call his name, but found there was no air to pull into her lungs. Yet she heard something: Snickering, clicking sounds that reminded her of a darkspawn horde.

 _Stay calm, she thought._   _Don't panic._

Just when she'd believed she could bear it no longer, a rush of color filled her vision. The next thing she knew, she was lying on cold stone, gratefully taking in huge, gulping breaths. She heard Fenris croak, "Hawke," and turned her head slightly to see him sprawled facedown next to her, reaching for her with his hand.

"I'm… all right," she said, and grasped him tightly. "Zevran? Erynon?" she managed to call in between her ragged breaths.

"I am here," said Zevran from behind her. "Though where this might be, I do not know."

She glanced over her shoulder and saw Zevran struggle to his feet. Erynon was next to him, rubbing the back of his head.

"The bridge," said Hawke.

To her disbelief, Zevran laughed. "A bridge, yes," he said. "Your talent for stating the obvious is most impressive."

Hawke grinned. Maybe Zevran's greatest contribution would be to keep her spirits up. She felt Fenris tug on her hand, and allowed him to pull her up to stand.

"I've dreamed of this bridge many times," Hawke explained, as she turned to the younger elf. "Are you hurt, Erynon?"

"I'm fine," he replied in a clipped voice, and rose to his feet.

Hawke nodded and scanned the area. On her left was a copse of trees where she thought the strange window had surely been. To her right, the path wound up a long, high hill. The stream below them bubbled and gurgled happily, just as if she were back in Lothering on a summer afternoon.

"They are not here," said Fenris. His face wore a worried frown.

"Again, with the obvious!" said Zevran, but he didn't get a return grin from Fenris, merely a sharp look.

Hawke turned to Erynon, a question in her eyes.

The the young ranger shrugged, and said, "I'll try, but this place doesn't smell right."

Zevran spoke up. "I believe I have something that may help you, my young friend." He held out his wrist to reveal a shining copper bracelet set with a simple runestone.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

"Papa, Mama," Melody nearly sang, but her tone was subdued. She looked at her brother, whose eyes were wide with shock.

"Yes," said Fen'Harel in a low growl.

Melody moved past the wolf toward the door.

"Wait!" shouted Anders. "What's going on?"

Fen'Harel's black, pointed nose sniffed the air. "The hawk and the wolf have arrived," he announced. "Very clever."

And with that, the Dread Wolf disappeared, and to their disbelief, took the cabin with him.

The three now stood in an open field, one Melody did not recognize. As she looked around, something strange caught her eye.

"Farrell!" she exclaimed. "Look!" She pointed to the spot in the sky where the Black City, once merely a distant blur high on the horizon, had grown in size and scope.

She felt Anders put a hand on her shoulder.

"Maker," he said. "That can't be good."

"Don't call  _him_  back again," said Farrell.

Anders' responding laugh held no humor.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Literally armed with Zevran's bracelet, Erynon found he could somehow sense a trail that  _felt_  like Melody, although, he could not see or smell her, which was good enough for him considering where they were. What wasn't so good was the incessant whispering in his ears.

"Does anyone else hear that?" he finally asked, rubbing at his ear.

Fenris nodded. "Whispering voices."

"Yes, quite annoying," agreed Zevran.

"What are you talking about?" asked Hawke as she came to a stop.

"You can't hear them?" Erynon questioned her. "Must be your shemlen ears."

"Tread carefully," growled Fenris.

Erynon glanced at the thundercloud building on Fenris' face and cleared his throat. "I only meant that she's not an elf."

Zevran laughed and said, "Surely you have noticed this before now, my sour-faced friend. Hawke is much too…" He eyed her speculatively for a moment before he continued, "…tall."

Erynon gestured at Fenris and said, "He's tall," in a surly tone.

"Enough!" Fenris exclaimed. "Let us assume that only elves can hear the Dalish gods and continue our search."

"Anders heard them," said Hawke. "And he's certainly no elf."

"Elves and dead mages, perhaps?" suggested Zevran.

"We should move on," insisted Fenris, and for once, Erynon agreed with him.

They'd followed the stream upriver, and the high, rolling hills to their right came to an abrupt end in a jagged, tumbling cliff just ahead. Zevran's bracelet began to warm, and Erynon could almost feel it pulling him toward the boulders that lay scattered at the cliff's base.

"This way," Erynon told them. He cut away from the path and into a narrow field of high, brown grass.

At the foot of the cliff, they all stopped, staring up at the sky. There was the Black City, and even as they watched, dumbfounded, it seemed to be slowly filling the horizon.

"Why is it so big, and…. and growing?" asked Hawke, her voice hardly above a whisper.

"Please enlighten me, my dear Hawke," said Zevran. "This  _Black City,_  it is usually smaller, yes?"

"Much smaller," she replied. "I don't like this."

Fenris moved to stand next to her and tucked an arm around her waist. "Hawke, we need to find Melody and Farrell," he said, and glanced up at the dark, looming city in the sky, before he added, "And we must hurry."

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

It felt as if they had been running for hours, through fields and over hills, and finally threw a dense forest. Melody was still unused to her legs being so much longer, and how much more ground she could cover with less effort. Her heart beat hard in her chest as she thought of her parents' reaction to their recent, alarming growth. She pushed aside thoughts of having her childhood stolen from her, and focused on how to help Mama and Papa deal with the shock of seeing them this way.

As they broke through the tree line, Melody abruptly stopped, and Farrell nearly ran into her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, clearly frustrated. "We need to find them!"

"We have," she replied, her voice emotionless, and she pointed in the distance to where four tiny figures stood gathered at the bottom of a cliff-face.

"Maker! Look behind you!" exclaimed Anders.

Melody did as he asked, and clutched at Farrell in shock. "Andraste's ass!" she breathed. There, filling her vision was the Black City.

Farrell looked at her sharply, but Anders said, "I think we better hurry if we're going to get to them before that," and he gestured into the sky, "catches up with us."

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

"No need to hurry," said Erynon. He'd felt Melody before he saw her. With the Black City so large in the sky, no one had thought to look to the ground beneath it. He could see three people emerging from a forest in the distance. Erynon's stomach dropped as he watched them stop and look up at the sky behind them. It was Melody, he was sure, with Farrell and that mage. Within moments the figures took off at a break-neck speed directly toward them.

"Melody! Farrell!" Hawke shouted, and she too began to run, with Fenris right behind her.

"Perhaps it would be best if we take a more leisurely pace," suggested Zevran.

Erynon nodded and began to walk, filled with a strange anxiety at seeing this older version of Melody, though he would not admit to himself why that was so. "Here," he said, returning the copper bracelet to Zevran. "Where did you get that, anyway?" he asked to distract himself from his own thoughts.

Zevran fastened the bracelet back onto his wrist. The expression on his face as he ran his fingers over the strange rune took Erynon by surprise. It was soft, gentle and perhaps… resolved.

"It is a promise," Zevran replied. "And one I intend to keep."

"That's vague," replied Erynon. It was difficult enough trying to control the wash of feeling rippling through him without Zevran's annoying obtuseness.

Zevran laughed. "Why yes it is, my young friend. And yet, I have told you the truth, yes?"

Erynon shook his head and kept his attention focused on the menacing presence of the Black City. If it kept up at this rate, they'd be standing in the middle of it before long.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Farrell slowed his steps as he watched his sister throw herself into Mama's arms. After a moment, the three of them - Mama, Papa and Melody - were pressed so tightly together, he could hardly tell them apart. He knew Anders had fallen back purposefully, to give them privacy, but why was he, himself now hesitant to take those few final steps to join in their reunion?

That's when his mother turned to look at him, and of course, there was her beautiful, reassuring smile. She reached out an arm to him, and finally Farrell felt his feet begin to move. One step, two, then three… When Mama's arms went around him, he breathed in her unique scent, and felt a terrible stinging in his throat and behind his eyes. He sank into her embrace, and noticed that now he had to bend slightly to hug her. A warmth spread through him, though he hadn't realized he'd felt cold. Even as his heart expanded to near bursting, he still did not let the tears fall.

"Farrell," she whispered and ran a hand over his mop of overlong hair as she pulled back to look at his face. Papa came to stand beside him then, one arm still wrapped possessively around Melody.

Father and son - their eyes met and held – the same shape and shade, the same emotion filling them. Yet shining in his father's eyes, was that spark Farrell had noticed when he'd first exhibited Valora that day in Starkhaven. It was pride – a fierce pride that finally burst the damn inside of him, and his breath hitched as he said, "Papa."

His father's embrace, though no less comforting, was stronger, with more intensity. Where Mama always spread her love all over everyone, Papa's reserve was well known. Yet here, in this moment, though no words were spoken, all barriers had fallen away and Farrell could only cling to him with equal ferocity.

His sister's sweet, singing voice broke the silence. "Mama," she began.

His mother gathered them all to her, causing him to finally release his father. She glanced over her shoulder and into the sky. "There's no time to talk about what's happened," she said, "because I think we're about to be in serious trouble."

Zevran, Erynon and Anders all joined them, and to Farrell's surprise, his mother walked over to the mage and put her arms around him. He heard her say, "Thank you," and watched the expression on Anders' face turn from disbelieve to relief as he returned the embrace.

"Now," Mama said as she pulled away from the mage. "Down to business. Is there any point in running?"

"No," a new voice said – one all too familiar to Farrell.

"Maker, not again," he said, not intending the pun, but he heard Anders chuckle behind him anyway.

"Keep back!" growled Fenris, sounding much more fierce than Fen'Harel had. Farrell also noticed Zevran pulled his daggers, and Erynon had stepped closer to Melody. It was his mother, however who stepped forward.

"You must be the Dread Wolf, or Maker, or whoever," she said blithely. "I'm Hawke."

"Yes," Fen'Harel drawled. "You most certainly are."

"What I want to know is," she continued, "What will it take for you to release my children back to me?"

Fen'Harel laughed. "The resemblance is more than in appearance, I see," he said. "And your answer is – right behind you."

Mama glanced over her shoulder at the Black City, which now filled the whole of the sky. "I'd guessed as much," she said with a wicked grin. "So what is it? Defeat an old god? Find the hidden switch that makes your city Golden again?"

"You are not far off," Fen'Harel said to her. "Find and destroy the source of the taint," he told her, "And I will release you all, to do what you will."

"This wolf, he is not serious?" asked Zevran.

"Unfortunately, I think he is," replied Anders.

"The taint," said Mama, "Of course. What else would the Maker want?" she asked ruefully.

"Send our children back now." demanded Fenris. "And we will do as you wish."

"My terms are non-negotiable," said Fen'Harel. "What I will  _wish_  you now, is merely…  _luck_."

With those words, the wolf was once again lost to sight and a terrible rushing darkness swirled around them.


	28. Chapter 28

Perhaps from instinct, when the black wind began to howl all around them, Anders grabbed onto Melody and Farrell. He heard a low growl more menacing than the Dread Wolfe's had ever been, and was sure it came from Fenris' throat. Even after all these years, the elf still sounded some feral beast when he growled that way.

There was, however, no time for thought, or to let go of the twins – it was like being sucked into a vortex. Or like the Black City was eating them for breakfast, because he certainly felt devoured. Bits of what he assumed was debris, but felt all too much like gnawing teeth, were pelting all the exposed areas of his skin. He tightened his hold on his charges and ducked his head. Really, in the grips of such forces, what else could he do?

Finally, everything came to a grinding halt – except for the rushing, mournful wind, which blew around them in stuttering gusts and eddies. Anders didn't like this, not one bit. He'd have rather gone back to the Deep Roads than come to this cursed place, and everyone knew how he'd felt about the dwarven tunnels under Thedas.

Melody and Farrell were sprawled with him on a rubble heap, one on either side of him; his hands still gripped their forearms tightly. It was, of course, a pile of black stone, and a particularly large chunk was digging into his backside. He shifted his weight and managed to choke out, "Are you all right?"

Farrell nodded as he shook off Anders' hold and scrambled to his feet. He turned in a full circle, scanning the area.

Melody placed her slender fingers over the hand that still held her fast. "Where is everyone else?" she asked.

From behind the rubble came that low growl again, followed by, "here."

Fenris' white hair rose above the broken stone, and was soon followed by the rest of him. Like the rest of them, there were a few new scratches on the elf's face and arms, but Anders took one look at the scowl on Fenris' face and sighed deeply. He'd hoped that maybe Fenris had dropped some of his old antagonism considering recent events, but no luck. Anders quickly released his hold on Melody and struggled to his feet. He extended a hand back to her, and she smiled and allowed him to help her stand.

"Let's get this over with," Anders quipped. "Mage this, abomination that,  _my_  children, blah blah blah."

Fenris had opened his mouth to speak, and from the look on his face, the words would not have been pleasant, when something interrupted him.

Laughter.

Hawke's laughter, and soon Hawke herself appeared. Her head peeked over Fenris' shoulder, and that beautiful smile was on her face.

"He's right, you know," she said to her husband. "You might as well get it off your chest, because we don't have the luxury of a long, extended conflict between you two."

"Just remember," said Anders cheekily, " that I am no longer an abomination. You'll have to think of another insult."

This time it was Melody who giggled.

Fenris looked momentarily confused, and his head swiveled from mother to daughter and back again. When his eyes at last drifted back to Anders, the animosity in them burned brightly again.

Fenris took a step forward and put an arm around his daughter. "Do not worry,  _mage_. I can think of several appropriate insults."

"Something new?" asked Anders sarcastically, and he folded his arms across his chest. "Let's hear it then."

"Papa," said Farrell.

Fenris immediately glanced over at his son. "Yes? What is it?" There was less impatience in his voice than Anders had expected. How could the blighted elf switch from snarling to attentive so quickly?

Farrell walked over and put a hand on his father's shoulder. "You can trust Anders," Farrell told him. "Since we've been here, he's done nothing but help and protect us."

Suddenly it was as if Anders had ceased to exist. Fenris turned fully to his son. "You ask a lot of me, considering his past."

Farrell nodded, not arguing the point. "And yet, I do ask it of you. Without him, I don't know what we'd have done." He glanced up at Anders, and though Farrell didn't smile, there was a rare softness in his expression. "Now, we all have to work together if we're going to get out of here alive."

"Very true," agreed Hawke, still smiling. "It's a good plan, all getting out alive."

Anders thought it was time to enter the conversation again – perhaps lighten the mood. "I can at least guarantee you one thing, Fenris" he said and held out his arms, "that I will  _not_  be getting out of here alive."

"The former abomination makes an excellent point," said Zevran as he approached the group, Erynon at his side. "Let us consider the matter settled and begin our search, yes?"

Fenris gave Anders one last penetrating look. "Agreed," he said finally, and turned back to Hawke.

Well, that was something Anders never would have expected. Moody, broody Fenris taking the word of someone else who  _wasn't_  Hawke. Anders half suspected it wasn't only because Farrell was his son. No, after all the time they'd spent together, he knew that Hawke's son was about as trustworthy as they came, and that was something Fenris surely knew better than he did.

It had hit him again, how incredibly fond he'd grown of the twins. Somehow it had happened without his awareness, but now, watching them make their way carefully down the pile of shifting, broken stone, he knew he'd continue to protect them, no matter that their parents were here now.

It wasn't about prophecies or gods or the blighted Black City. It was about these two fine young people who he'd come to love and respect.

* * *

While the others had been arguing about nonsense, Erynon had been doing what he did best. He'd been inspecting his surroundings, memorizing their position, and trying to discern something about the rank smell of this place - hard to do with the blasted wind blowing incessantly. The doleful sound it made grated on his nerves, along with that other crunching noise, which felt as if it was burrowing into his ears.

They'd landed in a pile of rubble at the bottom of a long, curved stone stairway. Behind him was a blasted, black field strewn with more piles of debris and wreckage. At the edges of the expanse was what appeared to be loose, black canvas swinging raggedly in the ever-blowing wind, which was attached to a rocky formation several hundred meters away. As the group made their way toward the stairway, he'd noticed several more of these odd appendages.

Whatever the Magisters had done to this place, it seemed as if the act had split the very foundation of the city.

Hawke stopped them all at the bottom of the stairway with a hand raised, palm up, and stood staring up at the dark outline of the city high above them. Erynon craned his neck to get a better view. A dark, swirling mist the color of eggplant, enveloped the jagged structures and ruined towers of the city. Within that mist, wispy lights swirled and danced in meaningless, random patterns. Erynon felt a flutter of fear deep in his stomach, and silently questioned the wisdom of his desire to accompany the others into the Fade.

Hawke was quiet for several minutes, and no one else had moved or spoken in all that time. Erynon's gaze drifted to Melody, and he found her staring back at him, her expression unreadable. She was beautiful, with her dark eyes and the soft waves of chocolate hair that framed her face - which for some reason made him angry.

The disquiet he'd always felt around her suddenly manifested ten-fold, and to cover his discomfort, he demanded, "Why are we just standing here?" His voice seemed unnaturally loud, even to himself, and he noticed several pairs of eyes glanced at him sternly.

Melody moved closer to him, and he fought the urge to back away from her.

Her eyes danced as she tilted her head toward his ear, and in soft undertones said, "It's a thing with Mama, like her own special brand of magic."

Erynon couldn't suppress the shiver he felt go down his spine from her breath tickling his ear. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, feigning a harshness he didn't actually feel.

Melody pulled back slightly, and now she was smiling. "It's like she goes inside herself for a bit, and when she comes back out, she just…  _knows_  things."

Hawke turned back to them then. Her eyes were clear and focused, and her own soft smile curved her lips.

"Erynon will lead, with Fenris and me close behind him. Anders and Zevran, you bring up the rear." She turned to Melody and Farrell and said, "Under no circumstances will the two of you separate. No matter what happens, stay together."

The twins nodded, and everyone began to gather in their assigned places.

"Why…" Erynon began, and then cleared his throat. "Why am I going first?"

"Eyes, ears, nose," Hawke said to him as she pointed at those things with her finger. "Fenris and I will make sure nothing happens to you. Your job is to notice _everything_."

"I'll try, but…"

"You will," she interrupted him. "Our lives depend on it."

* * *

Hawke did her best to refrain from glancing over her shoulder as they ascended the long, curved stairway. She'd put her trust in Zevran and Anders to keep an eye on the twins, while she and Fenris remained ready to move on Erynon's signal. It wasn't easy, though.

After being so long away from them, she wanted nothing more than to scurry them all to some safe place and hug and kiss them both until everyone was embarrassed, including herself.

One thing Hawke  _was_  glad for, however, was how quickly she was becoming accustomed to their new, yet older, appearances. Perhaps it was because they  _felt_  the same to her; they were still her children, and her mother's heart cared not what they looked like. Yet, she thought her ease was surely just as much because, when she looked into their eyes, there had been no change at all.

Melody's dark eyes still sparkled with a mischievous light, and were filled with that same compassionate warmth. Farrell's eyes, like his father's, were as somber and serious as always, yet also revealed his strong resolve and keen intelligence.

The rest, she would get used to.

The stairway felt like it would never end, and the muscles in her thighs began to protest. They were only about half way up when Fenris spoke.

"What exactly do you imagine we will face?" he asked, and his eyes were focus on the Black City looming ever larger above them.

Hawke was glad he hadn't brought up Anders. She'd rather been expecting it since the little scene on the rubble heap, but she saw no point in discussing the mage further when her heart had already settled the matter. That Anders cared for her children was not only apparent in his eyes, but it was also obvious in his actions.

What would they face? Hawke thought back to what she knew of the Black City, most of which had been discovered during that final trip to the Vinmark Mountains and the warden's prison.

"From what we learned when we defeated Corypheus, the Magisters who entered the Golden City became the first darkspawn," she replied. "Corypheus evidently ended up in Thedas, so I assume the other corrupted Magisters did as well."

"So you believe the Black City is empty?" Fenris asked.

Hawke didn't like her answer, but she gave it to him anyway. "I'm sure it's  _not_  empty." She could hear a scribbling noise – one she didn't recognize. She sighed and shook her head. "What about you?"

"I agree," Fenris replied. "Though I no longer hear the whispering of the Dalish gods in this place, I hear… something."

"Yes, as do I," said Erynon without turning to look at them. "It almost sounds like someone crunching old, dried up parchment."

"Darkspawn?" wondered Hawke aloud.

"In the Deep Roads, the darkspawn sounded more like insects," stated Fenris with some distaste.

"I've never tracked darkspawn, but there's no life in this place," said Erynon.

That set Hawke to thinking. "What about Anders?" she asked. "What does he feel like to you?"

"He  _feels_  like a mage," said Erynon. "Like all mages do, only I can't smell him."

Hawke smiled despite their dire circumstances. "Some days that might be a good thing."

Anders snorted from behind her.

"Do you feel anything similar to the mage in this place?" asked Fenris seriously. "Spirits? Demons?"

Erynon shook his head. "No, but there's something…"

"What?" asked Hawke.

Erynon made a sour face. "I don't know. It's like a heaviness, in my stomach – like I ate too much and need to throw up."

"That could simply be fear," Fenris scoffed.

By now they were nearing the top of the stairs, and the purple mist reached its long tendrils toward them. Once again, Hawke called a halt.

"Remember, stay together," she announced loudly so everyone could hear her over the wind. It had picked up in volume the closer they came to the city, and now almost sounded like some giant baby whimpering in distress.

Before them stood a broken gate that hung crookedly on twisted hinges, which marked the entrance to a portcullis. Through the short tunnel, Hawke could see what appeared to be a city street, lined with buildings in various states of destruction and decay. Other than the purplish mist, and the yellow-white firefly lights, everything was black.

Hawke took a deep breath and said, "Let's move."

Whatever awaited them, they were as ready as they'd ever be to meet it.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Warning: The twins' tale is outside of all DA plot lines. Although I have done my best to research and stay within canon as much as possible, I have certainly twisted some things to suit myself ;)
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Fenzev.
> 
> I cannot possibly list all the ways that she helped me, so just take my word for it that it would not have been possible without her! Thank you a thousand times, my friend! *Muah!*

Jagged bolts of blue lightning split the sky over the Gallows, and a fierce wind began to blow. In all the years since he had assumed the mantle of Knight Commander, Cullen had never seen anything like this.

His counterpart, First Enchanter Alain, stood next to him, enraptured by the light show in the sky.

"What do you make of this?" Cullen asked him, and a frown of worry creased his brow. He could barely hear his own words over the blighted wind.

"I fear this is no normal storm, Knight Commander," Alain replied with a shake of his head. "I don't know how it's possible, but it's as if there is lyrium in the lightning bolts. I can feel the magic building in the air itself!"

Cullen studied the First Enchanter, remembering just how far he'd come from the young man who refused to do blood magic, no matter the cost to himself. The only time that Alain had ever succumbed was to save that Tevinter elf, who had ran with Hawke, but never before and never since. Cullen often thought the experience had actually helped the First Enchanter to understand the temptations of his fellow mages.

"Yes, I feel it, too," Cullen agreed, his usually gentle voice increased in volume. "Suggestions?"

"Get the mages as far underground as possible," said Alain. "I don't know what this might do to them… to me."

"Go," said Cullen. "Gather everyone and take them to the tunnels." He turned and gestured toward the group of Templars standing guard at the gates. "To arms!" he shouted.

Whatever this freakish, seemingly magical storm was, the Templar Order would stand against it, just as they had always done. He took his duty seriously, and his first priority was to protect those who could not protect themselves.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Kardol had awakened that morning feeling uneasy. Something was gnawing at his stone sense, though he could not figure out what it was. He'd kept his unit moving quickly through the tunnels all this day, but he did not know where he was leading them. He only knew that there was power stirring deep within the bowels of the earth, and it was the duty of the Legion to find and fight whatever darkspawn threat might arise.

From long years of service, Kardol knew every inch of the Deep Roads within a hundred leagues of Orzammar. Yet now they were entering tunnels he only vaguely remembered, and his sense of disquiet was growing.

If he hadn't known better, he'd fear that this was the start of another Blight – but how could that be when the last one had ended so recently? He still remembered that day atop Fort Drakon, when the Archdemon had been slain by the Hero of Ferelden. How could he forget? It was the only time he'd ever been topside.

"On your guard!" he shouted, and put his hand to the hilt of his sword. If he knew anything about darkspawn, and most would agree he knew a lot, then they were approaching a greater horde than they'd ever faced.

He hadn't dared send any scouts ahead – wouldn't have known where to send them even if he  _had_  dared. So, Kardol had taken the lead himself.

When the passage split, he automatically led his unit to the left. Kardol held up one hand and brought the company to a halt.

His second in command, Brendol, came to stand beside him, and pointed to a narrow split in the stone. "Through there?" he asked succinctly.

Kardol nodded. "We wait here," he said. They'll come out eventually, and it would be suicide to file through that cleft."

Brendol's barking laughter made him feel a little bit better. "What matter that?" he asked. "We're already dead!"

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

"The Commander of the Grey sends his greetings," Senior Warden Stroud said to the Architect.

"Does he? To what purpose?" asked the Architect.

As usual, Stroud ignored this lack of proper manners by the creature before him. He did not like these missions of parlay to the Architect's labs. Did not approve of its experiments to 'end the Blights', but Commander Caron insisted he could trust no one else.

"We have come to…" began Stroud, but the Architect interrupted him.

"It does not matter why you have come," it said.

Stroud felt his impatience rising. "Of course it matters, if you want our continued cooperation."

"I need it no longer," said the Architect. "I expect to have full control of the darkspawn horde very soon."

"What!" exclaimed Stroud. "How could this be? What has happened that you have not told the Wardens?"

"It is not what has happened," replied the Architect. "It is what is happening now."

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

_Well, this isn't so bad,_  Melody thought herself as they left the short tunnel and entered the Black City. Almost immediately, the flickering little orbs of light began to gather around her, just like fireflies on a summer evening at the hunting lodge.

Her soft giggle made Farrell turn to her sharply.

"This isn't funny, Melody," he said sternly as he waved his hand in the air over her head. "We don't know what these things even are."

"Stop grumping, Farrell," she replied. "They  _feel_  nice, and in this creepy place, I'm glad for them."

"It is creepy," he agreed. "And that noise, whatever it is, it's growing louder."

"Which noise?" she asked. "The crinkling noise or the moaning noise?"

Farrell wrinkled his nose at her. "The crinkling one."

Walking just ahead of Mama and Papa, Melody saw Erynon lift his hand in the air and they all came to a stop. She couldn't help herself - as Erynon conversed in a low voice with her parents. She studied him, yet again. It seemed that along with her taller height and longer hair and… well, her new body, something else had changed – how she felt about the elven ranger.

Before, when he'd been training her at the Dalish camp, she'd been equally annoyed by him and intrigued by him. She'd certainly wanted Erynon to like her, though she hadn't been certain why. She'd always cared little what others thought of her, because she had Mama and Papa and Farrell, no matter what. Now, however, her feelings had shifted quite dramatically. It wasn't just that she wanted him to  _like_  her, she also wanted his  _attention_.

They way the swirling purple mist reflected in the auburn highlights of his hair, and the way his peridot eyes shone with such intensity as he explained something to Mama, all fascinated her more than anything or anyone had ever done. Even the way his lips moved over the white gleam of his teeth…

"Melody," Farrell said and nudged her with his elbow. "What are you doing?"

"What? I'm… what?" she replied rather stupidly.

There was no more time for chatter, however, because Mama turned to them.

"Erynon is sensing a lot of movement in the street ahead, but he can't actually see anything," she said.

Melody craned her neck to peer down the seemingly deserted street. It was hard to see anything in detail, what with the purple mist swirling around and through all the buildings. She did notice that the faces were missing from what might have once been houses. And the tall turrets scattered across the city, seemed to be staring down at them with bad intent, through cracked and shattered windows.

She shivered.

The firefly lights around her suddenly coalesced and formed themselves into a larger, brighter orb, made of hundreds of the tiny things. A thought occurred to her, and without stopping to question it, she asked aloud, "Can you light the way?"

Farrell turned to look as she spoke, and his eyes grew wide as he noticed what the tiny lights had done. As they both watched, the orb lifted above their heads and drifted down the city street.

They buttery light grew stronger as it slowly moved away from them. Once Melody saw what was actually in the street, however, she almost wished she kept her mouth shut.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

"Maker! What are those things?" Hawke shouted as she pulled her daggers from her back. She heard the reassuring slide of steel from Fenris beside her and a loud snick as Farrell readied Valora behind her.

The entire street was filled with pointy little figures, black as night, so that they almost looked liked jagged rips in the air before them. There were dozens of them, no two exactly alike, and now she knew what that sharp, crinkling sound had been – it was the sound of razor sharp appendages clicking and snapping in a furious frenzy.

No one answered her question, but Fenris let forth a roar and scythed straight into the horde of creatures. Hawke took a deep breath and prayed that her fancy boots would work in this blasted place. She inhaled deeply and took a step forward – then was suddenly next to Fenris in the midst of the horrid things. They barely came to her waist, but what they lacked in size, they made up for in ferocity. She had no time to feel the relief that her boots had worked, however, and she began slicing through the things, her daggers a blur of movement.

Each time she struck one of the creatures, it made a terrible screeching noise that threatened to break her concentration. Each time one of their needle-like claws found an exposed bit of skin, Hawke had to bite back a yelp. Oddly, though, the wounds they made seemed to disappear as quickly as they happened.

A rain of arrows fell on the group pressing in on her right, and she used the opportunity to glance behind her. Melody stood with Farrell, keeping the creatures off him with her daggers, as he fired bolt after bolt from Valora. She caught a glimpse of Zevran and Erynon not far from her children, but could not see Anders.

Suddenly an explosion of fireballs lit the scene, and her heart lifted as she watched the bulk of their attackers sizzle and briefly flame before winking out of existence. The worst of it was the piercing noise that she felt deep inside of her head as they extinguished.

Fenris swung his sword in a wide arc, and felled the last of the creatures around them. It seemed the fight had barely begun when suddenly the street was empty.

Before long, they had all gathered together again, and Anders was healing the few wounds they'd incurred. His brow lifted when he noticed Hawke was free of the rash of punctures that covered most of the others. She shrugged her shoulders and was about to replace her daggers on her back, when several things happened at once.

Erynon shouted, "Something big is coming!" While at the same time, a ghostly light began to fill the street, and a clamorous cry rent the air around them.

The ground beneath them shook, and Hawke watched in astonishment as a beastly head appeared from behind a tall tower about a dozen yards away.

"Is that a… dragon?" stuttered Anders.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

As was the case most days, Mari was deep in her thoughts. She'd not received another letter in much too long, but for the baby's sake, she tried to put her mind at ease. Mari  _would_  rescue her children and be back in Starkhaven in time for the baby's birth. It was a mantra she often repeated.

It was the end of the day, and Bethany sat before the fire, waiting for Sebastian to finished his business and join her for the evening meal. Malcolm lay sprawled on a furred rug reading a book, his feet crossing and uncrossing at the ankles.

She smiled. The boy could never be still.

As if in answer, she felt the baby inside of her began a little kicking frenzy. She pressed a hand to her stomach and began to  _coo_  in a soothing voice. Malcolm was instantly on his feet, moving Bethany's hand out of the way and replacing it with his own. Her son seemed fascinated by the new brother or sister still tucked safely within her womb.

"You're sure it doesn't hurt?" Malcolm asked yet again.

Bethany laughed softly. "Not at all, darling." She smoothed the hair from Malcolm's brow.

Only another month now, and she'd finally be able to hold her child in her arms.

The door opened, letting a cooler draft of air into the cozy room, and Sebastian appeared carrying a large tray.

"I thought we'd eat by the fire tonight," he said, smiling. "There is a wickedly cold wind blowing, and I believe this is the warmest room in the palace."

Bethany began to rise from her chair, when Malcolm extended his hand to help her up. He was turning into such the little gentleman, much like his father.

Sebastian placed the heavy tray down on the room's one small table and began to uncover dishes. Heavenly aromas began to fill the room, and Bethany's stomach growled in response, making her giggle.

Bethany had just reached for a soft, buttery roll when she suddenly felt like someone had jabbed her arm with several needles at once. A startled cry escaped her lips.

"What is it, love?" Sebastian asked in concern, and was immediately at her side.

She lifted her arm to see several deep puncture wounds on her wrist oozing crimson droplets of blood. Without thought, she released a wave of healing magic and watched as they closed.

"How did that happen?" Sebastian asked, and began to examine the tray for sharp objects.

"I don't know…" Bethany began, and then shrieked again. Her hand flew to her throat and she felt the warm blood oozing between her fingers. She had just barely healed those new wounds when her forearm erupted in a burst of crimson pinpricks.

"What's happening?" asked Malcolm in a tremulous voice.

Sebastian drew a dagger from his belt and turned swiftly, searching the room. "Who is doing this?" he asked in near panic. He moved to the door and opened it, calling "Guards!" at the top of his lungs.

For the next several minutes, Bethany exhausted most of her mana healing herself. The guards rushed into the room and began to search, while Malcolm watched her with wide, fearful eyes.

At long last, she'd gone several minutes with no new wounds, and she collapsed into a chair, breathing heavily.

"What just happened?" Sebastian demanded, moving to stand next to her.

"I honestly don't know," said Bethany. "But I think… I think it might be Mari."

A sudden crack of thunder sounded, and the windows lit with the lightning that soon followed.

Malcolm cried out, and rushed to his mother's side. "Mama! The storm… it's, it's…"

"It's magic," finished Bethany, gripping Sebastian's hand tightly. "I feel it, too."


	30. Chapter 30

What was this - Interlopers in his city?

The old god stirred. For years uncounted, the Black City had been his. Since he'd been slain at the Battle of the Silent Fields, and reawakened to find himself in this place – the once Golden City that the Magisters had stolen from the Maker, Himself. Awakened to find a source of inestimable power, so near at hand – the source of the taint itself.

As the centuries had passed, his brothers had joined him - Zazikel, Toth, Andoral and most recently Urthemiel. All defeated by the wretched mortals. Their only hope to return to the world now rested on his brothers, Razikale and Lusacan, asleep in their prisons in deep caverns under the ground. Both of them silently attempting to impress their will on the darkspawn, waiting for the mindless hordes to heed the call and pour forth the wrath of the old gods upon Thedas.

Now, a new power had entered the Black City: A foreign, alien thing to his preternatural senses. This power tasted of mortality and magic, yet there was something else, something he could not discern. Was it divinity? Surely, it could not be.

" _Urthemiel_ , he called to his brother.  _Find and meet this threat. Destroy these mortals who dare enter our realm. The Source must be protected at all cost."_

" _In what form?"_  asked Urthemiel, his thoughts as clear to Dumat as if he had spoken them himself. That he was eager to meet revenge upon the mortals was more than apparent.

" _Dragon, of course_ ," Dumat replied.

The old god then released his will upon the corrupted souls of the long dead mortals who yet lingered here: Deadly minions, black as midnight and sharp as a blade. If only he could have corrupted them all, but many souls that were trapped when the Magisters entered the city still remained pure, despite his efforts. They were a constant, if minor, irritation to the Source, and therefore, to himself.

Dumat did not, however, worry over much. Even if these interlopers should defeat his minions, they would not survive full exposure to the Source. It would destroy their minds as easily as he had once corrupted the Magisters.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Farrell had never seen a dragon before, but he doubted very much that the ones Uncle Varric mentioned in his stories looked anything like this. For a moment, he was paralyzed as he gazed up at the ghostly monstrosity that now rounded the turret and filled the street before them. Its bellowing roar resounded inside his head and he heard Melody scream next to him. The creature lifted its massive wings, which beat the purplish mist, sending it into a raging vortex that nearly blinded him.

It was Mama's voice that cut through the din, and jarred him from his stupor.

"Farrell! Anders and Erynon! To the rear!" she shouted. "Melody and Zevran, on me!" She spoke no word to Papa. They simply nodded at each other, and then everyone began to move.

He felt a tug on his shoulder and heard Anders' voice at his side. "This way!" shouted the mage, and then they were moving behind another of the massive turrets. "Aim for the eyes and the throat," Anders continued. "Stay steady, be precise!"

With that, Anders lifted his staff and cold blue flame erupted from its end. Behind the mage, Erynon nocked his bow.

Farrell positioned Valora on his shoulder, and with a steadying breath, sighted the dragon's left eye. He flipped the switch on his crossbow's stock, and readied himself for the kickback. He could see his father before the great dragon, attracting its attention with a never-ending series of blows to its forelegs and chest. Behind him, Anders was breathing hard with the effort of sending spell after spell; all designed to slow the beast and make it an easier target for the others.

Just as he was about to let loose with his bolt, he caught a glimpse of the three rogues, now behind the dragon. Zevran spun and shoved both of his daggers into its rounded thigh, while his sister and mother worked in tandem at its other leg.

No more time, thought Farrell. His finger pulled the trigger and the flaming bolt flew through the air. When it found its mark and exploded, the dragon's head was suddenly lost to Farrell's sight amid a fiery blast of red-orange light.

Farrell nocked another bolt when he noticed the dragon's head dip, and its immense gaping mouth clamped down on his father's shoulder. The thrill of fear that shot through his body nearly caused him to run to Papa, but as if in anticipation, Anders' hand was on his shoulder again.

"Steady, Farrell, I've got this," Anders said, and sparkling blue healing light erupted from his staff and enveloped his father. Within seconds, Papa lifted his sword high above his head and let forth a great roar that seemed more ferocious than the dragon's own mighty bellow.

Farrell could have kicked himself. This was no time to be panicked or fearful. He steeled his resolve and lifted Valora again. His best reaction to his fear was to kill the blighted dragon. As he set his sights on its head again, he noticed the blackened hole that was now the dragon's left eye. He felt a grim smile curve his lips as he aimed for the right eye.

A blind dragon should be easy to kill.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Hawke found it impossible to get a grip on this particular dragon. It was par for the course for her to climb up their scaly backs and jam a well-placed dagger in their skulls. Not this time, however. There was an almost gelatinous substance covering the ghostly white scales, and she could not find purchase with her fingers. She gave up the attempt, and instead, focused on working with Melody and Zevran. They could not do much damage to the thick legs and thighs, but once they began to work as a team, they managed to cut away a large chunk of milky flesh - slimy, milky flesh, and now all three were practically covered in the stuff.

An explosion around its head abruptly cut off the dragon's clamoring roar, and though Hawke could not see him, she knew that it was Farrell's doing, and inwardly cheered for her son. Her good spirits did not last long, however.

No scream left her throat when the dragon clamped its jaws on Fenris' shoulder, but the tightening in her belly could not be avoided. Thankfully, it soon passed as she saw Anders' healing light flow over her husband, and she continued her assault with renewed force. Hawke had avoided all injury herself, as had Melody, but she could see a scarlet bloom of blood on Zevran's temple. The elf, however, continued to fight, and he was smiling! Antivan curses flew from his lips in a constant stream.

It wasn't long before another explosion of sound and flame engulfed the dragon's head, and suddenly it began to flail wildly, and its piercing scream drilled into her skull causing a sharp pain in her ears.

"Back off!" she shouted to her daughter and Zevran, and the three slipped away as the blinded dragon heaved its gargantuan form chaotically. It wings slapped into the buildings, and debris began to rain down all around them. Hawke scooped Melody in her arms and pulled her out of the way, just as a large chunk shattered on the black stones less than a foot away from them.

Fenris' roar caused her head to swivel sharply. Hawke turned in the nick of time, to see him bring his sword down on the dragon's neck, in a blow mightier than she'd ever seen him wield. Its sinuous throat could not withstand her fierce warrior's nearly inhuman strength, and she watched in amazement as its head dropped to the ground in a sickening thud. The headless body twitched and stuttered in its final throes of death before it finally lay still.

Hawke had began to move toward the others, her arm still tightly holding onto Melody, when the low moaning that was a constant background noise in this wretched place, began to increase in strength. The stone beneath their feet began to tremble and buck, as the moan morphed into a wild keening.

It went on for several long minutes, all of them staring at each other with varying degrees of astonishment as they gathered near the dragon's corpse. The carcass started to melt before their very eyes, and emit lavender colored vapors which, in Hawke's opinion, smelled worse than the sewers in Darktown back in Kirkwall.

"Move!" shouted Hawke, and they all began to run.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Sebastian sat on the edge of the bed, watching his wife fitfully sleep. Throughout the evening, she'd undergone several mysterious attacks; wounds had appeared as if from nowhere. He'd called for the First Enchanter, and Bergrand had taken over the task of healing her. With the babe so close to birth, Sebastian had been worried about how much mana she'd been depleting from herself.

Even now, Bergrand was dozing in the overstuffed chair by the fireplace, in case Bethany should suffer more.

His gaze drifted down to Malcolm, asleep under a pile of furs at the foot of the bed. Although he had not endured the literal wounds on his flesh as Bethany had, the boy had been agitated all night, and certainly not his usual self. Was it simply the magical storm still raging outside, or was there more to it?

The First Enchanter had sequestered the Circle mages in the guard's barracks in the lowest recesses of the palace. Sebastian had ordered both the palace and city guards, under direct order from Captain Aveline, on high alert. Whatever was happening, Starkhaven was as prepared as it could be.

Out of the blue, Bethany sat up, her eyes red-rimmed and wide. Immediately, Sebastian moved to her side and gathered her in his arms.

"What is it, my love?" he asked gently, running a soothing hand down her back. "Are you hurt?"

Bethany trembled and her voice, as she spoke, was barely above a whisper. "It's Mari," she said. "I saw her."

"You dreamed of your sister?" Sebastian asked, more worried than he'd been just moments ago.

"No. Yes." Bethany clung to him tightly. "I don't know if it was a dream, but…"

When his wife was silent for several long moments, Sebastian prodded her. "But what?"

"She's in the Black City," sobbed Bethany. "They all are."

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

A flurry of movement to the rear of his unit caught Kordal's attention. He turned to see a tall figure gliding through the ranks, parting his stalwart Legionnaires with no more than a gesture of his hand. The creature looked like some mad mixture of darkspawn and human, and Kordal tightened his grip on his blade.

"Move aside," the creature said.

"What 'n the blazes are you?" Kordal demanded. He stood firm and he'd finally given in to the urge to draw his blade. He heard the slide of steel, as dozens of his fellows' weapons were unsheathed.

"Some sort of nug-shit crazy darkspawn," muttered Brendal, beside him.

"I am the Architect," said the human-like darkspawn, and with that, it began to spin his hands in the air.

"Watch out!" shouted Kordal. "We've got an emissary on our hands!"

In unison, nearly one-hundred dwarves dropped to the ground. It was an old trick they'd learned in the Legion - low to the ground, the effects of darkspawn magic had even less effect than usual on dwarves. An instant later, a blast of heat and light shook the cavern and debris began to rain down from the ceiling above.

"These darkspawn are mine," said the Architect.

Kordal lifted his head, and watched in disbelief as hurlocks and genlocks began to file through the cleft in the stone in an orderly manner. There was no growling, no hissing, they were completely silent as they formed in ranks around the Architect.

Kordal rose, planting his feet firmly on the stone, and motioned for the rest of the Legion to do the same. Somehow this horde was far more disturbing than the usual ferocious, blind attacks he was accustomed to.

"By the Paragons," said Brendal. "This is just wrong."

"Agreed," said Kordal. "And I don't care what this  _Architect_  has in mind, when we're done here, every one of those bastards will be dead." He heard grunts and murmurs of approval all around him. "Let's not wait for an invitation, men… Attack!"

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

They'd fought and killed two more ghostly dragons, and Hawke was feeling bone-weary. She honestly didn't think she could face another, but didn't know what she could do about it. In between the dragons, they'd faced several more hordes of those nasty little black creatures. It seemed the Black City had an awful lot of occupants, and other than the little firefly lights that continued to hover around her daughter, none of them were nice.

The further they'd gone into the center of the city, the more heaviness Hawke could feel in her limbs, and her thoughts seemed sluggish, almost as if she'd just woken from a long, deep sleep. She glanced at Fenris beside her, as they sat in a small side-alley, attempting some small measure of rest. His shoulders were slumped, but more worrying, was that his eyes kept darting around – to the landscape and to each of them. Fenris quickly looked away, when their eyes met.

She'd just opened her mouth to say his name, when Anders came up to her.

"Hawke," he said and he looked at her with a worried frown.

She heard the low growl from Fenris, but did not look at him.

"What is it, Anders?" she asked wearily. Maker, she just wanted this all to go away. She wanted to be in a soft, warm bed snuggled under the covers in her husband's arms.

"I think…" he began, and then scratched the top of his head.

"You think?" she asked.

"Those white dragons," he continued. "I think I know what, or maybe  _who_ , they are."

"Yes?" Hawke responded by rote. She really hardly cared, and just wanted them all to disappear into the void.

"I'm pretty sure, well, that we've been fighting the archdemons," he told her. "Urthemiel, Andoral and Toth to be specific."

Hawke shrugged her shoulders. "So when archdemons die, they come to the Black City to live? Why am I not surprised?"

"Hawke, what's wrong with you?" asked Anders.

She looked up at the mage, and blinked. What was wrong with her? Hawke felt a spike of fear shoot through her chest.

"Anders," she whispered and reached a hand out to him, "I don't know."


	31. Chapter 31

Zazikel was the last.

Dumat would never have believed mere mortals could come so far, so close to the Source.

Worse still, were the two that remained still imprisoned under Thedas. Faint though their thoughts may be; Dumat could hear his brothers Razikale and Lusacan as they screamed their rage. The will of the darkspawn hordes had been wrestled away from them.

Too long. Too many ages had passed, and even those mindless creatures had evolved into something more. It had once been so easy to control the hordes and bring the First Blight upon the world. It took the benighted Grey Wardens two hundred years of constant battle to defeat him.

 _I am Dumat!_  He thought.

He was the strongest of the old gods, and still the most powerful in his malevolent will.

" _Zazikel_ ," he called.  _"It is time."_

" _This is not necessary,"_  Zazikel hissed.  _"I can destroy them without you."_

" _Do not DARE to question me!"_  Dumat told him, and immediately began the working that would merge him with his brother. He could feel Zazikel's chaotic vitality fill him as he spoke the ancient words of joining.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Anders reached for Hawke's outstretched hand, but before their fingers touched, a low, feral voice sounded from behind her. In the space of a single heartbeat, a lyrium-lit hand shot out and captured his wrist.

"What do you think you're doing, mage?" Fenris growled.

"Fenris," Hawke said, without much conviction. Although the elf turned to her, he did not lessen his hold.

"Don't play games with me, Hawke," Fenris replied.

Anders thought it best if he remained silent. Something was happening, and it was clear it was effecting them all. He glanced around the group, even as he heard Hawke's weary voice attempting to calm Fenris' sudden rage.

Farrell looked as if he might burst into tears at any moment as he stared wide-eyed at his parents. Erynon had backed up against the narrow wall, his head tucked into his chest and his shoulders hunched. Zevran actually wore a scowl on his face, his brow furrowed and his lips turned down. Melody's gaze shot between her parents, her demeanor confused and unsure. Yet, as he watched, firefly lights began to gather around her, clinging to her hair and her clothes.

Instead of tightening, the grip on his wrist began to heat, and Anders could feel Fenris' hand begin to phase through his skin.

He'd missed whatever Fenris' reply had been, but he heard Hawke say, "That's ridiculous, and you know it." Still, her usually persuasive conviction was lacking, and as Anders looked down at the glowing elf, he wondered how, or even if, Fenris could affect him now that he was dead.

"He wants you, he has always…" Fenris accused.

"Papa!" Melody cried. Cloaked in a soft glowing light, Melody approached her father and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Papa, stop this." Her tone brooked no argument. Unlike her mother's weak attempts at conciliation, Melody's voice was filled with a calm certainty.

Fenris' eyes darted to his daughter's face suspiciously, but as her hand moved to his cheek and rested there, some of the ferocity left his expression.

"Papa," and now Melody's voice was a soft song. "What you're feeling isn't real. The souls told me." She glanced at the soft, glowing orbs clinging to her hair and skin.

As he felt Fenris' hold continue to loosen, Anders yanked and pulled his arm free. He took a further step back and focused on Melody. "What do you mean, the souls told you?"

Melody looked up at him. "I can hear them now," she replied. "It's the Source – the source of the taint, that's making us doubt ourselves." She looked down at her father. "Its will is corrupting our thoughts. I felt it too, until this." She lifted her arms, indicating the tiny glowing spheres clinging to her.

Anders opened his mouth to question her further, but a sudden savage cry rent the air.

"Not another dragon," remarked Hawke listlessly.

Anders peered around the corner, and the sight that greeted his eyes caused his whole body to tingle. "Afraid so," he said. "And this one is twice as big and has two heads."

The rock beneath them began to tremor in a cadence of thunderous footsteps.

"Melody!" Anders said frantically. "Can you do something? Get the souls to help somehow?" Everyone else had backed further into the alley, and Anders was sure this would end in disaster if they didn't get some help.

"I can try," she replied and began to murmur her pleas for help.

"No, Melody! Sing!" Farrell shouted above the ravenous din from the dragon, which grew louder with each passing moment.

She did. Immediately, her melodious voice rose in volume, singing of help, of clarity, and of protection. The shining orbs began to increase in size and luminosity; several of them moved away from Melody and floated in the air. The first one landed in Hawke's hair, and Anders was amazed at the sudden change in her. Hawke's back straightened and she took a step toward her daughter.

"Melody?" she questioned. Another orb landed on Hawke, then a third and a fourth. Now the lights were spreading among the others, affixing themselves to hair and clothes and hands. Everyone began to stir at once, and the lyrium markings on Fenris' skin finally dulled and faded away.

Zevran was the first to approach them, and ruffled Melody's hair. With a wide grin he said, "Suddenly, I am in the mood to slay this dragon. Perhaps you would care to join me, yes?"

Melody laughed and with the sound, the lights clinging to everyone grew even brighter.

Hawke spoke up then, and Anders didn't think he'd ever felt so relieved in his entire life, or death. She was definitely back in charge, and she spoke with her usual cheerful confidence.

"If this one's got two heads," she said quickly. "There is no way Fenris can attack by himself. I stay with him - the rest of you, same as before."

"Hawke, no…" Fenris began.

Hawke surprised them all when she grabbed Fenris' face and kissed him fiercely. When she lifted her head and turned to the others, all she said was, "Let's go kill a dragon!"

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

The difference was… remarkable. As Hawke thrust and parried alongside Fenris in their usual battle routine, her blood was singing. She could hardly understand the malaise she'd felt sitting in that alley, could not fathom what had come over her. That was until, Melody's firefly lights had drifted into her hair, and suddenly everything came back into stark clarity.

Arrows and bolts flew through the air alongside Anders' bursts of flame and ice. Beside her, Fenris' grunts fueled her energy until she could barely contain her battle lust. What did it matter if this dragon had two heads? She could see that one of Farrell's bolts had already left a black crater where a large, jeweled eye had once been.

Zevran's cursing and laughter filled the air, and Hawke smiled as she caught a glimpse of her daughter and the Antivan so perfectly complementing each other in the fight.

The dual-headed dragon suddenly glowed green, and Hawke knew that was Anders throwing another spell at the monster. She grinned and flipped over Fenris' back to aim for the exposed sinuous flesh of the throat now bending down toward the ground.

That was when the voice boomed around them – it cleared the pervasive purplish mist from the air and echoed among the high turrets of the Black City.

"I am Dumat!" the voice bellowed. "Prepare to meet your doom!"

For a moment, Hawke vacillated; the old god's thunderous roar had broken her concentration. Next to her, Fenris held his long blade high above his head but did not strike a blow. Everything, everyone had gone deathly still and silent.

"On your knees!" the voice commanded. The two heads undulated through the air, mouths agape and oozing that milky white liquid in long, gooey streams.

This time, Hawke was sure it was the dragon speaking. A wayward thought crossed her mind – Anders had been right. These dragons  _were_  forms of the old gods. To think that after so many centuries, they existed at all!

She did not, however, have the slightest desire to drop to her knees.

Dumat lowered his great head and spoke again. "On your knees or you all shall perish!"

Before Hawke could even think to move or speak, she heard Anders begin to laugh. She turned and could then hear voices calling in the distance. Many voices, letting loose battles cries and roars of attack.

The dragon's heads both lifted, and a tremor ran through its heaving body. "What is this?" he bellowed. Hawke could swear she heard fear in his voice. Fear? From a god?

Anders approached then, his staff held high. Erynon and Farrell came up behind him.

"I'll tell you what this is," said Anders. "Revenge."

Hawke turned to Anders. "Care to fill us in?"

Anders' grin was wide as he replied, "The Wardens have come to finish the job they started at the Battle of Silent Fields."

"Grey Wardens?" asked Hawke. "Here?"

"Just go," Anders told her. "Find the Source, I must stand with my brothers!"

Hawke tried again. "Anders, how do you know…"

"Go!" he shouted, as the shadowy forms in the distance grew ever closer.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Behind her, Melody could hear the screeching roar of the dragon, but she did not look back. Ahead of her were Mama and Papa, beside her, Farrell. She kept her focus on her family, and tried not to worry about Anders, who they'd left behind. They ran deeper into the center of the city, the sounds of the battle raged further and further in the distance. They were all still covered in pulsating orbs of light, and even as she ran, she sang her thanks to them. What would they have done, if not for the help of the souls?

She was surprised when Erynon's voice called out from behind her.

"Stop!" he shouted.

"What is it?" Mama asked as they all came to a halt.

Erynon was pointing at the largest tower; its turret rising so high into the purple mist, it was lost to her sight.

"It's coming from there," he said. "The moaning."

"The giant baby?" asked Melody, and she felt Farrell nudge her ribs in response.

"You're sure?" asked Mama.

Erynon nodded. "If it's the Source that's moaning, we need to go in there."

At the base of the tower, a cavernous door stood open like a great yawning mouth. She shivered when she imagined stepping across the threshold into the pitch-blackness. The others were speaking in hushed voices, but she hardly heard them. Melody was so focused on the dread now building in her solar plexus that she hadn't noticed Erynon had come to stand next to her until his voice spoke near to her ear.

"You," he began, and when she turned to look at him, his eyes seemed alit from within.

"What?" she asked, through her suddenly dry lips.

"Just, please, be careful in there," he said in a low voice.

For some reason, his words made her smile. "Of course I'll be careful."

"I mean it!" he said sternly, and took hold of her arm.

"Erynon..." she said, but before she could continue, Mama was speaking again.

"Let's move," her mother called out.

Once again, the firefly lights clinging to them made all the difference as they navigated their way through the twisted hallways and stairways of the tower. The blue-white glow of her father's markings were a further comfort to her as she felt the awful will of the Source beating against her heart and her mind.

Ever up, they went, climbing until Melody thought her knees would give way. Erynon was leading once again, the glowing orbs in his hair in constant motion, he turned his head to look or listen, vigilantly searching for the Source. She had no idea how he was able to find the way because the mournful lament inside her head sounded as if it came from everywhere at once. Her own will continued to wane under the constant barrage, and she began to feel much as she had in the alley.

"Sing sister," Farrell said from beside her. "Sing to them."

Melody nodded and began a nonsense song of hope and gratitude. She hardly knew what she sang - was concerned only with the way her words seemed to enliven the souls and lift her heart. Her voice grew stronger as they climbed yet another stairwell, one which spiraled around and around, narrowing as it went. Somehow she knew that this was their final ascent. She knew that whatever the Source was, it wouldn't be long before they were face to face with it.

Despite her singing, the dark will continued to echo through her brain and squeeze at her heart. She nearly stumbled on the last step, but Farrell's sure grip caught her. His simple touch did more to harden her resolve than any words could have done. Although Farrell did not return the smile she gave him, it was enough that they were still together. Her thoughts slipped back to Anders then, remembering just how much the mage had done for them. There was no way she could bear it if something happened to him and she was not there to help him.

Although she could not see past Erynon, a draft of warm, sluggish air came wafting down from above. Farrell gave her arm one last squeeze before releasing her to pull Valora from his back. Melody drew her own daggers, and moved closer to Mama and Papa, where they were stopped on a broad, flat landing. Through it all, she kept up her singing, lest the dark will overcome them again.

"Down there," Erynon said, gesturing down a long corridor, at the end of which was a swirling purple vortex so dark, it nearly looked black. The thought of approaching it - or maybe even going into it, caused a revulsion so deep, Melody did not know if she could force her legs to move if she wanted to.

They gathered together in a group, and Melody took in each of their dear faces with her eyes. When her gaze rested on her father, an unexpected smile curved her lips. Papa looked as if he were dressed up for a Funalis party, with his markings glowing and covered in firefly lights. He caught her glance, came up to her, and gathered her in his arms. The lyrium under his flesh tingled against her skin, another comforting thing for which she was grateful. Through it all, she never stopped singing.

"My Melody," Papa growled as he hugged her tightly. After a moment, Mama approached them, her arm around Farrell, and Papa lifted his own arm to include them both in his embrace.

"Be strong, my loves," whispered Mama. "Do not doubt yourselves. Do not waver." She kissed each of them, lastly Papa, where she lingered longest. "True heart."

It was then a sudden commotion echoed up through the stairwell. Seconds later, Anders appeared; a horde of the nasty black creatures hot on his heels. Without a word, everyone moved into their battle positions as Anders spun and let loose a wall of ice on the minions.

Melody had little time to think as she attempted to wield her daggers, keep up her singing and tamp down the excitement that had arisen within her when Anders had reappeared.

The fight did not last long, and once all of the creatures were dead, Anders struck the end of his staff on the ground, and with a huge grin asked, "Well, how is everyone? Nice day to destroy the Source of the Taint, wouldn't you say?"

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Fenris could not say that he liked the mage any more than he did before, but his animosity was losing ground. He nearly felt ashamed at his brief lapse in judgment back in the alley. He should have known the feelings he was experiencing were not his own, having lived as a slave for so many years. Who should know better than he, what it was like to have a foreign will imposed upon your own?

Anders had been busy telling the group how the ghostly Grey Warden army had swarmed Dumat and annihilated the most powerful Old God in existence. Should he have cared more? Perhaps. Yet now, all his attention was focused on the swirling vortex at the end of the corridor. The Old God was dead, and he did not care in the least how it had been done. Only destroying the Source mattered to him - the condition placed upon them by the Maker for the return of his children. He shifted restlessly from foot to foot, waiting impatiently for Anders to finish.

So tightly strung were his nerves, when Zevran spoke near his ear, he nearly jumped.

"So, my tattooed friend," said the elf in a soft voice. He nodded toward the vortex. "I am in the mood to explore, but alas, I am certain your beautiful wife would disagree."

Fenris glanced at Hawke, who stood listening to Anders, an arm around each of the twins. Zevran was correct, and Fenris wasn't sure he disagreed.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked Zevran.

"Only this. I will enter first, quietly, and discover what we will face," Zevran replied.

"Why would you do this?" asked Fenris.

"I find it is always best to know your enemy before you engage in battle, yes?" asked Zevran.

Fenris could not argue that, but he felt uneasy. "What do you want of me?"

"That is a simple matter. Make sure no one follows until I return," Zevran explained.

"What if you  _cannot_  return?" asked Fenris with a frown.

Zevran's eyes sparkled with mischief. "I ask only for five minutes. If I do not return, you have my permission to rescue me."

What convinced Fenris was also a simple matter. The lives of his children were at stake. "Agreed."

Fenris positioned himself between the vortex and the others, and pretended to listen intently to the conversation going on around him. He noticed Melody's voice was becoming hoarse from her constant singing, and hoped Zevran would hurry.

Of course, it wasn't long before Hawke noticed the rogue's absence.

"Where's Zevran?" she asked, peering down the corridor.

There was no time to answer her, however, because at that moment several things happened at simultaneously. Once again, the terrible moaning elevated into a high-pitched keening, and was accompanied by a revolting sucking sound. Within seconds, Fenris could feel his body being pulled toward the vortex, which was now spinning wildly and shooting out jagged beams of red light. He grabbed onto Melody, who was closest to him, but could not resist the force of the suction. They were all being pulled inexorably toward the Source, and he randomly wondered just what it was Zevran had done.

Fenris struggled to loosen his sword from its sheath with one hand, while he kept a tight grip on his daughter with the other. Everyone else was lost to sight in the sudden storm of light and sound. Incredibly, Melody continued to sing, though he could not make out the words.

He felt the markings under his flesh heat as they were pulled through the vortex and into a cavernous room, which Fenris assumed was where the pervasive, purplish mist came from. The mist swirled throughout the space in a maelstrom of sickly color, and poured out through the loophole windows in the circular room, filling the air with the malevolent will of the Source. The magnetic, airy pull had lessened, but Fenris had no time to feel grateful, because of what he then saw, heaving its massive form upon a stone dais at the chamber's center.

A massive globular form, black as a demon's heart and perhaps three times the size of an ogre, undulated upon the stone dais in the middle of the chamber. At the center of the Source an etched a mockery of a white darkspawn face rippled and twisted in an illusion of laughter. Above that, what resembled a raw, festering wound opened and closed sickeningly - a grisly mouth that broke the surface of its shining hide.

As he watched, a jet of ice froze the appendage that held Zevran fast, and Fenris wasted no time - with a roar, he scythed to his friend and severed the writhing arm in one mighty blow. The ice shattered, freeing Zevran, who immediately threw himself into the fight.

It  _was_  already a fight, as the waving tentacles fought like a small army in and of themselves, each seeming to have a mind of its own, yet they often twined together and swung through the air with crushing blows that nearly knocked Fenris off his feet more than once.

They'd had no time to prepare, no time to organize a plan of attack, but in his peripheral vision, he saw Anders herd Farrell, and Erynon to a far corner of the room while Hawke, Melody and Zevran slipped in and among the waving, serpentine arms, dodging and thrusting, and somehow eluding capture. His heart surged as he noticed that even as Anders pulled his son backward, Farrell never stopped firing bolts from his crossbow.

They fought on, and although many severed arms littered the stone floor of the chamber, there remained five times as many still attached to the heaving body. More disturbing still, was when Fenris saw the ragged mouth of the Source was increasing in size, expanding until he hardly could see the white caricature on its belly.

A scream rent the thick atmosphere, stopping his heart in his chest.

"Melody!" he roared as he watched his daughter being lifted high into the air, out of his reach. The tentacle was moving at an alarming speed, straight toward the yawning, scabrous mouth. Melody was twisting in its grip, stabbing with her daggers over and over, but to no avail. It had her, and if he didn't do something quickly, she would be lost to him.

In the brief seconds he had, Fenris could see only one option to save his daughter's life.

He heard Hawke also scream their daughter's name, and knew if he hesitated, she would try to stop him. Therefore, Fenris called on the lyrium trapped within his skin to come alive, more powerfully than he had ever done before. He practically flew through the air between Melody and the gaping maw that was trying to devour her, and threw out his sword arm. Even as he did these things, he knew that should he succeed in saving his beloved daughter, his trajectory would take him straight into the orifice. It mattered not, he had known, he had always known, that he would give his life for Hawke or their children.

His sword cut through the snakelike arm still gripping Melody, and with his free hand he used the last of his strength to hurl it through the air away from the Source. Fenris could smell the putrid odor emanating from the maw, and knew that smell would permeate his last breath.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Melody had expected to hit the hard, stone walls, but instead, she felt strong arms go around her and heard a soft  _umph_  as she and Erynon tumbled to the floor. Immediately, she scrambled to her feet, no longer singing, but now screaming, "Papa! Papa!"

"NO!" came another shout, and Melody could hardly believe her eyes as she watched what happened next.

Instead of being eaten by the lumpy, moaning baby taint thing, her father was suspended in the air just before its mouth, cocooned in the brightest, whitest light she had ever seen. She jerked her head around to see Anders, his arms held forth, his whole body consumed with the same light that surrounded Papa. Within seconds, both Farrell and Mama were next to her, and they all clung to each other tightly, paralyzed by the sight before them.

As Anders continued to glow ever more brightly, his features were lost and he seemed nothing more than human-shaped mana, until finally the light grew so radiant, she was completely blinded. If it weren't for Mama and Farrell's arms around her as they huddled together, she would think she herself had been lost - vaporized by a force not meant for mortal eyes to see. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and began to cry, clinging to her mother and brother.

When at last she opened them again, it was to see her father stumbling toward them. Behind him, where the Source of the Taint had once been, was instead nothing more than bits of purple haze that hovered above the surface of the dais, until it too evaporated into the air.

"Hawke," Papa growled, even as he gathered her and Farrell into his arms. For long moments it was just the four of them in the entire universe - all alive, all free to return to life – though, in her heart, Melody knew it would never be the same again.

Melody lifted her head to see Erynon and Zevran standing only a few paces away, and lifted one hand to beckon them over.

"Where's Anders?" she asked of no one in particular. He should be with them, too. Melody was sure Papa would want to thank him. She most certainly did.

Zevran gestured to the place where Anders had once stood. "I am sad to tell you, little song-bird, he is no longer here."

Melody broke away from the group and ran over to where she'd last seen her friend. Only his staff lay blackened and smoking on the rough stone floor.

"Where is he?" she cried. "Where has he gone? We've got to find him!"

Before anyone could respond, the tower around them began to shake.

"We must go," said Papa. He came over to where she stood staring down at the useless staff. "Come, my Melody."

"No!" she shouted. "We have to..."

Mama spoke then. "Melody, we  _must_  go." The tower continued to tremble and bits of stone began to fall from the ceiling.

In the end, she wasn't given any choice, because Papa and Erynon each took her by an arm and led her out through the empty doorway. Down the curved stairway they flew, Erynon unerringly leading the way as he always did.

By the time they reached the street, there were firefly lights everywhere, dancing in the air, whirling above their heads, and the Black City was no longer entirely black.

But there was still no sign of Anders.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

The battle was not going well.

Under the direction of the Architect, the horde was more ferocious than any Kordal had ever encountered in his long years in the Legion. The darkspawn fought with a deadly precision, and he'd already lost many good dwarves to the blighters – dwarves he'd fought alongside of for years uncounted.

As his blade ran through a Hurlock, Kordal parried another attack and turned to find himself face to face with the Architect, spinning his hands in the air in that eerie manner.

By the ancestors, he would not let this foul creature best the Legion of the Dead. If it was with the last breath he took, he would see the Architect destroyed.

Kordal let loose his battle cry, and as he heard the response from his soldiers, his resolved hardened. He lifted his sword in the air, determined to slice the hands of this blighted creature - this perversion of everything good and true in the world.

Before he could bring his blade down, however, a deathly silence swept over the battle. As one, all the darkspawn had ceased attacking, and now stood staring aimlessly about them. Blades clattered to the ground; genlocks dropped their stone, and the, Architect…

The Architect hands had stopped weaving their spell, and he surveyed his horde with an expression of alarm growing on his face.

"Where have you gone?" he asked the silent air.

Kordal had seen enough. He knew what to do.

"Attack!" he cried, and the Legion swept into the horde and mowed them down effortlessly by the dozens.

He peered up at the Architect with a crooked grin. "Yer done here," he said, and with a well place swing of his blade, cleaved the Architect's head from his neck.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

"Push!" shouted Ethelyn, just as Bethany felt the next contraction wrack her body. She bore down, and the pain exploded in her belly, along with an incredible sense of relief.

How long had she been in labor? She couldn't tell. Had lost track of the hours since she'd awoken in the night in a soaking wet bed, screaming Mari's name. Everything had erupted in chaos – Sebastian calling for Bergrand to fetch Healer Ethelyn, Malcolm being ushered from the room while still the storm raged outside.

The stress of her dreams, of her connection to Mari as she battled in the Black City, had apparently thrown her into early labor, and now, Bethany was terrified. She could not lose her child! She would not!

"You must relax, Princess Bethany," said Ethelyn. "Sebastian, help her. Make her breathe."

Suddenly, Sebastian's hands were on her face, his bright eyes boring into hers.

"Bethany, love, follow me," he said and began to pull in slow steadying breaths. She watched him, tried to emulate him, but the pain was nearly more than she could bear and she began to cry.

"Bethany," Sebastian said more forcefully this time. "Do as I do." He took her hands in his and added, "Give me the pain."

The next contraction hit her then, and outside the window, the storm beat against the palace and the wind moaned like a dirge. Her nails dug into Sebastian's hands as she waited for Ethelyn's order to push once again. It was an agony of waiting.

"Push," Ethelyn finally said, "That's right, the baby is coming, don't let up." Her words murmured in a litany of nonsense after that, but Bethany could feel the baby moving lower, until… until finally there was a rushing sensation through her stomach and the pain stopped.

So did the storm outside – the magic lightening, the roaring thunder, the howling wind - in a heartbeat, in a breath, it was over.

All was quiet for several long moments. No one moved or spoke, only Bethany's still labored breathing filled the silence in the room. Her eyes caught Sebastian's and she knew hers mirrored the same fear she could see in his.

And then, and then… the cry of a baby. The mewling cry of her child!

"You have a daughter!" shouted Ethelyn triumphantly, and the next thing Bethany knew, her swaddled daughter was being placed in her arms.

"My love," said Sebastian as he curled his arms around her. "She's beautiful!"

Bethany didn't even try to stop the tears flowing down her cheeks. "She is beautiful. Our beautiful daughter, Amelia."

Sebastian smiled. "You know the other children will call her Ami," he said with a chuckle.

"Shall I retrieve Malcolm?" asked Ethelyn.

"Yes," replied Sebastian. "Bring him to meet his new sister."

When Sebastian lowered his head, Bethany lifted her mouth to meet his. The kiss was gentle, sweet, like the small, new life she held in her arms.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

As if a layer of old filth was being peeled away, golden streaks began to glow through the walls of the buildings and towers. It was almost as if someone had an invisible brush, and was repainting the city in a beautiful golden palate. The orbs of light flowed over and around and through everything, coalescing together, and then breaking apart, like blackbirds in the sky on an autumn afternoon.

Finally the orbs gathered into the street before them, and stilled. As the last of the darkness left the city, and a beautiful sun-colored light began to radiate through the streets, the orbs began to shift and take a new shape. Human shapes, of all sizes - some male, some female, little children and bent old ones, all filling the streets of the restored Golden City.

When Erynon shyly reached for her hand, she took it and wrapped her fingers through his. One brief look was all it took for Melody, to know he understood the riot of feelings raging inside her.

She watched, as one by one, the souls of those long trapped in the Black City, knelt on one knee and bowed their heads before them. In that moment, as her heart was filled with the love pouring over them from these pure souls, it was also screaming in grief that Anders was gone from her.

The tears streamed down her face, and she did not know if it was her joy, or her grief, that caused them.


	32. Chapter 32

Erynon glanced worriedly over at Melody as they approached the stone bridge that traversed the rushing stream. She'd been silent since they had been expelled from the Golden City, yet she had not released his hand. He would have thought she would have wanted to be with her parents and brother. Erynon noticed how Fenris continued to look back at them. Thankfully, Melody's father did not have that ferocious scowl on his face, but he wouldn't have called his expression friendly, either.

He had no idea what would happen next - no clue how they would return to the Dalish camp. Hawke's moonstone was to have been an anchor for them, but since the Maker became involved, Erynon figured all bets were off.

It was Hawke who led them now, and she moved with a determination that seemed to be hers alone. After all they'd been through he had to admit that she was perhaps the most extraordinary person he'd ever met, except that was, for her daughter.

This time when he looked at Melody, she was staring back at him. Erynon felt his face heat, and attempted to project a neutral expression. Unusually, Melody wasn't smiling, but seemed to study him, and he became acutely aware of how tightly she held his hand.

"You okay?" he asked, feeling awkward and unsure of himself. This new Melody, who could sing to souls and who'd bravely faced old gods, the Source of the Taint and everything else the Black City had thrown at them - well, he felt intimidated, to say the least. Even in her currently unkempt state, she was very pretty - nay, beautiful - and his reaction to her was causing him discomfort like he'd never felt before.

She didn't speak, merely shook her head. Of course she wasn't okay. Why had he asked such a stupid question? It was obvious how much she'd cared about Anders, and they'd not been able to discover what had happened to the mage.

To cover his embarrassment, he asked, "Throat sore?" Again, he could have kicked himself for babbling such inanities.

She nodded this time, but also, the faintest smile curved her lips. In that moment, Erynon wished he were a mage himself, so he could have healed her raw throat. So much singing... yet she had saved them all.

Just a few paces from the bridge, Hawke called a halt, but it was Farrell who spoke.

"Every time we have stepped onto the bridge, Elgar'nan has appeared," he said in a monotone voice. Farrell was never effusive, but Melody's brother seemed to have left most of his vitality in the Black – no - the Golden City.

Finally, Melody released Erynon's hand and went to stand with her brother. He felt the absence of her touch in a way that he could only describe as  _pain_. Without her, he felt like an outsider. The ease with which Melody laid her head on her brother's shoulder, the way Hawke stood between Fenris and Zevran, the three of them obviously completely comfortable with each other, and how Fenris' hand rested on the small of Hawke's back in a protective gesture - all made him feel more alone than he'd ever been since he'd lost his parents. Erynon's anger began to build again. He should have been the one standing next to Melody.

He shook his head and tried to banish his obsessive thoughts, and instead, focus on Farrell.

"So we must assume that this time will be no different," Farrell said, as Melody nodded next to him. "The last thing the Dread Wolf asked us was -  _With all you know, what will you choose?_ Will we choose to set Elgar'nan and the rest of the gods free from their prison?" He looked down at his sister with worried eyes. "Yet, I think the choice has already been made."

Next to him, Melody nodded again. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke, "Though I do not know how."

"Do you not?" came a new voice, deep and feral.

Erynon turned to see a massive grey wolf approaching them from the other side of the bridge. He'd seen many wolves in his day, but never one so large, and never one that moved much more like a human than an animal.

Fenris immediately moved to stand between the Dread Wolf and the rest of them. "Come no closer," he warned.

"I do admire your desire to protect your family," replied the Dread Wolf, "but remember to whom you speak." Fenris remained silent, but did not drop his stance as Fen'Harel continued to move toward them, until he stood at the center of the bridge. "Come, my children. The time of destiny is at hand."

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Both her father and mother reached for her as Melody took her first steps toward the bridge, but Farrell spoke for her - spoke the words she could not speak, from the rawness in her throat.

"This must end," said her brother. "And there's only one way that's going to happen."

"Wait," said Mama. "I must..." She gathered first Farrell, then Melody in her arms, and there were new tears in her eyes as she spoke. "I love you," was all she said as she gave them each a soft kiss. "Be strong."

Melody clung tightly to her mother, and she felt Mama's strength pouring into her heart. She turned and Papa stood before her, and that's when her own tears began to sting behind her eyes. He lifted his arms, and as one, she and Farrell stepped into his embrace.

"Whatever happens," Papa began in his rough, growly voice. "Whatever happens, you must know..."

Again, it was Farrell who spoke for both of them. "We do know, Papa. We know that you love us, that you're proud of us, and that you will always be there for us, no matter what." Farrell's voice broke on the last of his words, and the first tear slipped down Melody's cheek. It wasn't as if they were going to be parted forever, but somehow Melody knew this was another ending, though she did not understand exactly what that meant.

"Yes," agreed Papa gruffly, and he too kissed them both before releasing them.

Zevran approached them then, and with a wide grin, he said, "Tonight we shall have a feast in your honor, yes? Back at the camp." He gave them each a boisterous, smacking kiss on the cheek. It was so like Uncle Zevran to lift her spirits and put her heart at ease.

There was one more person standing there, and he was watching her intently, his sparkling green eyes filled with some unnamed emotion. Melody glanced at Farrell with a warning not to follow her, and approached the young elvhen ranger. At first, she tried to speak, but it seemed as if her voice had finally given out. Instead, she gave Erynon a shy smile.

"Melody," said Erynon, and he lifted his hand, though he did not touch her.

She took his hand in both of hers, and stepped closer to him. It seemed like a long time that they stood there, simply looking at each other, but then Erynon's eyes flared brightly and his head dipped down to hers. The kiss was brief, hardly more than a touching of lips, but Melody felt it down to her toes. Her smile grew wide at the panicked look on Erynon's face, as if he could not believe what he had just done.

"Sister," called Farrell.

With one last smile for Erynon, she turned back to her brother and took his hand in hers, and they slowly made their way to the bridge until they stood before the Dread Wolf. Immediately, the pervasive whispering she'd grown so used to in the Fade, became loud to the point where Melody thought she could nearly make out the voices of the gods, calling to her.

"First things first," said Fen'Harel, and the air around them began to shimmer and sparkle. Melody felt the relief in her raw throat first, but soon all of the other wounds she'd incurred in their battle with the Source, began to heal, until she felt completely well again.

"Thank you," she said, and her voice was strong and true.

"So polite," said Fen'Harel with a barking laugh, and she thought to herself again, how odd it was that this wolf was also the Maker - the creator of them all.

"Before we go on," Melody said, driven by the empty place in her heart. "You must tell us, what happened to Anders."

That wolfish grin did nothing to ease her mind, and as so often was the case, neither did his words. "Time will reveal and time will obscure. You must be patient, little bird."

Farrell spoke, and of course Melody wasn't surprised at his confrontational tone. "Why do you still pretend to be the Dread Wolf?" he asked. "You're little game is over, isn't it?"

"Hmmm, my game," said Fen'Harel. "Not quite over, no. There remains the issue of the Dalish gods." His usually dark eyes burned brightly blue. "Have you chosen?"

"Yes," said Melody. "Elgar'nan and the others must be free."

Fen'Harel's wolfish grin split his face. "Then sing, my child." He lifted one great paw and there was suddenly a lute lying on the stone bridge at Farrell's feet. "Make it so."

Farrell looked at her intently before stopping to pick up the lute. His deft fingers strummed a chord, which created an unearthly sound – one that was unlike any music Melody had ever heard. It was as if the vibration of the strings created their own magic, and words began to form in her mind. Words of freedom, of hope and of peace. Words that spoke of rebirth and promises kept and the restoration of a people.

She opened her mouth and her she hardly recognized her voice as her own as she began the song that would fulfill the destiny of the Elvhen people, and right an age-old wrong.

_Oh Elgar'nan_

_Oh Mythal_

_Return to us_

_Your people._

_From Elvhenan_

_to Arlathan_

_Your home is with us._

_Wise Falon'Din_

_Do guide us_

_through this world and beyond._

_And Dirthamen_

_please teach us_

_the mysteries long lost._

_Swift Andruil_

_hunt with us_

_under the moon and sun._

_And clever June_

_please show us_

_of leaf and tree and bark._

_Oh Ghilan'nain_

_halla's mother_

_return to us our hearts._

_Return and all shall be reborn._

_Return and Elvhen shall be freed._

_Return to us -_

_Andaran atish'an_

_Return to us -_

_Come in peace._

_Return to us -_

_Melana'nehn enasal ir sa lethalin._

_And time will again be the joy_

_it once was._

And then... She knew. She knew exactly why her voice had changed. Even as the air around them began to glow and shift, and the stone beneath their feet began to tremble and shake, her vision was filled with the most beautiful sight. It was a woman, tall and fair of the face. Her smile... A smile just like Mama's. Like  _hers_. Surely it was Andraste, and she was singing, too - her arms spread wide, and the joy that filled Melody, the bliss of this unearthly duo, continued to build in her breast until she wondered if she would not simply dissolve into the air itself, her body no longer able to contain such ecstasy.

It was Farrell's playing of the lute, this gift from the Maker that carried their voices into the far reaches of existence, reaching into the heavens and freed the gods from their prison. Melody saw them, too. There was Elgar'nan, white of hair with his great staff, and beside him a female who could only by Mythal. Strong and proud, yet with an expression of such compassion on her face, that it reminded Melody of how Mama looked at her - yet so much more. Other figures stood behind them. In her sight, they grew ever so much stronger with each second that passed.

The Dalish gods were returning to the Fade.

It was all so beautiful …until, behind the gods a black void began to grow. A void filled with a terrible screaming, like the agony of a thousand souls all perishing in wrath and pestilence. If not for Andraste's strength pouring through her, Melody did not think she could have withstood the terror that threatened to engulf her.

It was then that Elgar'nan, now almost fully formed, turned toward the darkness and with his staff held high, let loose a gargantuan roar. All the gods turned, and Melody watched, astonished, as the black void began to recede as swiftly as it had formed. Before long, it winked out of existence, as if it had never been there at all.

Fen'Harel spoke one last time, in his growling wolf, voice before his form disappeared from the ethers of the Fade. "For there is no darkness in the Maker's light, and nothing that I have wrought, shall be lost..."

And the Dread Wolf, too, was gone.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Elgar'nan, Mythal, Falon'Din, Dirthamen, Andruil, Sylaise, June and Ghilan'nain – the gods of the People all stood before them, beautiful and terrible in their might and majesty.

Farrell stepped forward. "Tell us, what was that darkness?" He'd been thinking of the Black City, now golden, and was concerned that perhaps their efforts had failed, after all.

Elgar'nan threw back his head, and his laughter filled the air of the Fade. When at last he looked down at Farrell and spoke, Farrell felt the god's word reverberate through his chest.

"That, my fine young man, is called  _revenge_." Elgar'nan's smile was wide as he continued. "The Forgotten Ones have been locked in the Heavens, and now will truly be _forgotten_." And he laughed again.

Next to him, Mythal smiled softly. "Our thanks to you, all of you," she said gesturing gracefully with a sweeping hand, "for our freedom."

His sister approached, stood next to Farrell, and dropped a slight curtsy. "Everyone should be free," said Melody, her voice still filled with lingering song. Erynon had followed her, and now stood protectively behind her. Farrell wasn't sure he liked the ranger's fascination with his sister, but there was no time to think about that now.

"Truer words never spoken!" Elgar'nan agreed. "For now we shall lend our efforts to rebuild Arlathan, and the Elvhen shall be restored!"

Farrell noticed a tall and slender goddess at the back of the group smiled shyly at Elgar'nan's words. She moved forward and stood between the father of the gods and Mythal.

"Father," she said in a soft voice as she lifted a slender hand and pointed behind Melody toward Erynon. "That one."

"Truly Ghilan'nain? You are sure?" asked Elgar'nan, a puzzled frown on his face.

"Yes, Erynon is a fine choice." She nodded. "So much loss in his young life, and so much power in his strong heart – he will do well."

"Very well!" said Elgar'nan. "Erynon of the Elvhen. As once we offered to Ghilan'nain, Mother of the Halla, so now we offer to you. Join us and increase our number! Lend us your life, and in turn you shall be immortal!"

All eyes turned to the young ranger, who had gone deathly pale. "Me?" he stammered. "Become a god?"

Elgar'nan laughed again, but it was Mythal who answered. "Over time, perhaps you may gain the power of the gods," she said, smiling. "There is much work to do, and we offer this boon as a gift."

Farrell had been listening, an uneasy feeling growing in his belly. Why would the gods offer this to Erynon? He didn't really understand why it bothered him so much, yet, it did.

Melody's voice interrupted his thoughts, and Farrell heard the tremble in it. "Erynon?" He turned quickly to his sister to see her face filled with distress, her eyes filling with tears.

Erynon had turned to her as well, and his hand slowly lifted to Melody's cheek. The two locked gazes, and both of her hands grabbed onto his and held it fast against her face. No words were spoken for long moments, until Erynon finally turned back to the gods.

"I thank you, but I cannot… leave." Erynon said and glanced back at Melody again. "My heart is here."

Farrell half expected Elgar'nan would grow angry, but instead there was a twinkle in his eye and a knowing smile curved his lips. "Indeed," said the god.

Ghilan'nain also smiled, which caused even more turmoil within Farrell's breast. She separated herself from the other gods and approached, and laid a hand on Farrell's head.

"I need not ask the question," the Mother of the Halla said to him. "When the answer struggles to rise within you already." Her hand slipped down his face and lifted his chin. "Give it freedom."

With her gentle words, something within him did break free, and he knew, without doubt, where is future now resided. The thought of leaving Mama and Papa - of leaving Melody, was a bright, burning flame within him. Yet this other thing, this surety of purpose that had arisen at the touch of Ghilan'nain's hand, was like a forest fire in comparison.

"Farrell?" Melody sang, and without quite knowing how it happened, they were in each other's arms, clinging tightly.

"I see it inside you," she whispered into his ear. "You will leave me."

Before Farrell could answer her, another voice sounded.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

"Farrell NO!" Hawke screamed, as understanding dawned, and she lunged through the air attempting to get to her son. It was Fenris' strong arms that wound around her waist, holding her back. She kicked her legs and twisted her torso with every move she knew, but could not free herself. "He can't!" she repeated over and over as she struggled with Fenris. "He can't, he can't, I won't LET him."

"Hawke," Fenris said in entreaty, but she was oblivious to the pain etched upon his face. "Mari!"

"He's my son!" screamed Hawke.

"He is  _our_  son," Fenris said more sternly. "And with the power of the gods he can end the tyranny of centuries." Fenris loosened his hold and brought a hand to her cheek. "He will free them all... free all the  _slaves_..."

Hawke stilled and looked up into her fierce warrior's beloved face. "How can I give up my son?" she asked through trembling lips.

Melody and Farrell, hand in hand, approached them then, and Hawke wrapped her arms around her precious twins, fighting back the tears, not understanding how this had all happened so quickly. Farrell, her child - how could she let him go? Yet even as her heart was breaking, she could see the firm resolve in her son's face, and the calm, if sad, acceptance in her daughter's expression. Had they known? Had they seen what she had not?

Farrell pulled away from her and embraced Fenris, and Hawke wondered if she was the only one who saw the tear slide down her fierce warrior's cheek. Hawke clung even more tightly to Melody then, numb with shock and renewed grief. She could not hear the parting words of father and son, over the roaring in her mind, and the gathering storm in her heart.

It was then Melody began to sing, and although her voice no longer held the power of Andraste, it was filled with a magic that was all her own.


	33. Chapter 33

Hawke couldn't sleep.

How many hours had she been laying in the bed next to Fenris? His arm stretched over her stomach, his soft breathing a sound that normally lulled her into slumber so easily, yet her eyes refused to close.

How many hours since she had stood crying, watching her son take his rightful place among the Dalish gods, as the Fade had dissolved around her and he was lost to her sight?

How many hours had passed, since her friends had welcomed them back from the Fade? Since Merrill, a puzzled frown on the Keeper's face as she had returned Hawke's moonstone, had asked  _'where's Farrell?'_  Yet she'd been unable to speak - had left Fenris to answer all their questions as she'd silently slipped an arm around Melody and led her back to the aravel.

How many hours could she continue to endure this pain?

Twice this night, she'd heard her daughter's soft sobbing in the other room, but her own tears had long dried and left behind nothing but a yawning abyss in her heart where her son had once been. Is this how Mother had felt when Carver died? Hawke cursed herself for her long ago impatience and lack of compassion. She'd been hurt when she'd lost her brother, too - but it was nothing compared to this deep, sucking pain she now endured.

It mattered not that she understood Farrell's choice. She could care less that her son would now help shape the fate of the elvhen - a people who had suffered horribly for centuries. It had been bad enough that she'd lost years of the twins' childhoods to a whim of some god - something she still did not understand. But to never see her son again? Never to hold him in her arms? How would she bear it?

She lifted her hand and watched as the soft moonlight spilled in through the small window and lit the elvhen script of her ring into a green fire. She remembered Mythal's last words to her.

" _Mari Hawke, daughter of Andraste, you wear the ring of true love crafted so long ago by June and myself. Never before has it graced a human finger, and to see it do so now is a wondrous sight, indeed!"_ _The goddess had lifted her hand, and her next words had overwhelmed Hawke_. " _Neither in life nor in death shall you be parted from your one true love. You have earned your place among the Elvhen People, from this day forward."_

The arm around her waist tightened, and Fenris tugged her closer to him. "Hawke," his rumbling voice sounded in her ear, and a pair of luminescent green eyes were intently gazing at her face.

"I thought you were asleep," she said as she fitted herself more firmly against him, although, perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised, his offer of comfort eased her pain, even if only slightly.

Fenris kissed the top of her head. "I have found that sometimes if you feign sleep, it will come."

"But not this time?" she asked.

"No," he agreed. "Not this time."

"Fenris," she whispered. "Should we have stopped him? Could we have?"

"You are thinking that when they disappeared into the Fade, the twins were only nine years old," he replied.

"I am," she admitted. "Much too young..."

"We could not have stopped him," Fenris interrupted her. "Farrell was born extraordinary. My Melody, too. You know this."

"I worry for her, Fenris," came Hawke's soft reply. "To lose her brother, her twin - it's too much."

Hawke couldn't help but think of Bethany, and how Carver's loss had taken so much of her spirit away. Her sister had been even more fearful after her twin had been killed. As always, Fenris seemed to read her mind.

"It was too much that you lost your parents and your brother, Hawke. It was too much that I was born into slavery." He smoothed her hair from her brow. "Life is too much, is it not?"

Hawke pulled away and cupped his face in her hands. "I can read your thoughts," she said. "Next you're going to tell me that we must be strong."

"I might say that," replied Fenris with a crooked smiled, and he dropped a kiss on her nose. "Or, I might say that some things are never lost, no matter that they are gone."

Hawke finally smiled. She couldn't help it, Fenris was telling her what she'd always told him, in hundreds of different ways. "No matter what," she said. "Love endures."

"It does," he told her, and this time his lips captured hers completely.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

It was strange waking up in the aravel after so long. Stranger still was the absence of Farrell as they ate breakfast. Yet the strangest thing of all was that, although she knew Farrell was with the Dalish gods, doing whatever immortal beings do in the Fade, it truly felt as if he were with her, just out of sight. Perhaps still in bed, or out to run an early morning errand for Mama.

How could he be so far away and yet feel so close to her?

Melody had awakened several times during the night, crying without knowing why. Each time it took several minutes for Melody to remember that Farrell had left them - had chosen magic and mystery over family and love. Her dreams had been disturbed; Ethereal images that made no sense to her mind, but had wrenched her heart, as if the specters of the Fade were made of nothing but emotion.

There was no way that she would admit it to Mama or Papa, but the loss in her heart was for Anders. Her ignorance of her friend's fate made the missing of him all the more acute. Farrell, on the other hand, was within her breast as strongly as ever. If she quieted her mind, Melody could nearly hear him talking to her. With practice, she believed it was possible she could learn to do so.

That thought made her smile. Farrell would never be gone from her - he was a part of her.

Now Melody sat alone by the cold firepit, while Mama and Papa talked to Uncle Varric and the others. The Keeper was there, and so was Auntie Bela, Pardus and Donnic. They were discussing their departure from the Dalish camp and the subsequent trip back to Starkhaven. Melody didn't want to think about those things yet, so she'd wandered away to sit on an old log and look at the dead embers left over from the ritual fire.

As it had turned out, only an hour had passed from the time Merrill had performed the ritual until the five of them had returned. There'd been a lot of bustle, a lot of people talking, and Melody had been glad when her mother had led her away to the aravel. She'd heard Papa's deep voice telling the others what had happened, and she'd also heard her brother's name mentioned, before Mama had shut the door behind them.

Since then, she had not seen Erynon, and truth be told, that was the thing foremost in her mind.

Even now, she could hardly believe he'd turn down the Dalish god's offer to become one of them.

_My heart is here._

Those words were etched into her heart, as was the look in his eyes as he'd said them. There had been that burning intensity she'd seen in his gaze before, but behind that, Melody knew there had also been fear. Fear of what? Of her? She felt no fear of  _him_. The brief touch of Erynon's lips on hers had been wonderful, beyond imagining.

More than anything, she wanted to kiss him again.

So lost in her thoughts was she, that when Erynon's voice spoke from behind her, Melody jumped and nearly fell off the log - probably would have if not for the long, strong fingers that grasped her elbow and steadied her. She gazed up at him, and found she could not speak.

"Your throat again?" he asked, staring down at her.

Melody shook her head. "No," she finally managed. "It's fine."

Erynon tugged gently at her elbow, and she stood in acquiescence. Once they were face to face, he said, "I thought we might talk." He glanced at the group still deep in conversation on the other side of the camp and then added, "Alone."

Again, she merely nodded, and allowed him gently to lead her between the rows of aravels and into the field behind them. Most of the snow had melted, except for under the distant tree-line, where clumps of white still littered the ground. Winter was not yet over, but she could smell something new in the air - something fresh and clean. Several wrens flew over their heads, in circles, before two of the petite birds alit on her shoulder.

"Good morning, pretties," she chirped at them, and from their excited bird chatter, Melody knew there were changes for the creatures too, even at the edges of the Planasene Forest.

"Have they always done that?" asked Erynon, nodding at the birds. There was a smirk on his face that she couldn't quite call a smile.

"Yes, as long as I can remember," she replied, and she smiled up at him.

Erynon's expression immediately changed, and Melody was not overly modest enough to doubt why. She knew she had her mother's smile, and she knew how that smile affected others. He looked suddenly uncomfortable, and tugged at the collar of his tunic. She was also her mother's daughter in another way, because Mama always got straight to the heart of a thing.

"Why did you stay for me, Erynon?" she asked unabashedly.

She had a strong urge to reach out and take his hand, but kept herself still. He was skittish enough she was afraid he might bolt if she made a sudden move.

"Allow me to speak plainly?" he finally asked, and the grumpy looking frown that curled his lips downward nearly made her laugh. There was her dear, scowling ranger - oh how glad she was to see him again.

"Why yes, I wish you would," she replied, and turned her smile up a notch.

"Stop that!" he pleaded, and he reached out to curl his fingers around her wrist.

"Hmm?" She knew she was pushing all his buttons, but it made her spirits lift to see his reaction to her. "What do you mean?"

"Melody, this is serious," he told her, and took a step closer to her. The wrens flew from their perch on her shoulder, scolding Erynon as they did. He, however, ignored them and now he was staring down at her upturned mouth.

"Serious, yes," she said, and lifted her heels from the ground very slightly, bringing them even closer. It seemed to be more than he could stand, because before she knew what had happened, his head ducked down and he pressed his lips to hers.

This time, Erynon did not pull away immediately, and his hands rose and cupped her shoulders. Melody lightly moved her head from side to side, brushing their mouths against each other, reveling in the sweet sensation. She lifted her hands and wound her fingers into the thick hair at the nape of his neck. It was her first real kiss, and she thought she understood Mama and Papa's constant kissing much better already.

Erynon increased the pressure, and began to move his lips on hers almost as if he were tasting them. Small sips from her mouth like a hummingbird drinking from a petunia. Melody began to feel languid as a delicious heat spread through her limbs. This was really very, very nice, and when Erynon pulled away she made a small gasp of protest in her throat. She did her best to pull his mouth back down to hers, but he used his hold on her shoulders to move her back from him, instead.

"No more," he said shakily.

"Why not?" she asked, still attempting to close the distance between them. "I like it."

"So do I," he said, still holding her firmly. "But you must trust me, no more. Not right now."

"But..."

"Melody," he said in entreaty. "I beg you, for once don't argue. Trust me, please."

There was such sincerity in his expression, and nearly a pleading note in his voice, that she found she couldn't push him further.

"Okay, Erynon," she agreed, though she could not hide her disappointment.

He offered her a tentative smile, took her by the hand, and began to walk. They hadn't gone very far when he said, "You're going to be leaving soon."

"Yes," she agreed, sadly. "As much as I want to see Aunt Bethie and Uncle Sebastian and Malcolm..."

"You'd like to stay?" he asked, and she thought there was hope in his voice.

Melody nodded. "But Mama and Papa would never allow it."

Erynon surprised her by saying, "Of course they wouldn't - they shouldn't. But..."

"But what?" she asked, curiously.

He stopped walking again and turned her to face him. "I've spoken to the Keeper, and she's talking to Hawke now."

"About what?" Melody asked impatiently.

"About summering in the mountains north of Starkhaven," he blurted.

"Really?" Melody sang. "The whole clan?"

Erynon's smile was genuine. "Yes, all of us."

Melody impulsively threw her arms around Erynon's neck and hugged him tightly to her. After a brief delay, she felt his arms circle around her back and pull her close.

"Just a few months then," she whispered happily.

"They're going to be long months, indeed," he said to her, yet she could hear the relief in his voice.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Not far away, in the little copse of trees where Erynon and Melody had so often trained together, Zevran and Cúel had watched as the young couple had kissed, and embraced.

Zevran frowned. "I am uncertain if that young man is worthy of my sweet Melody," he told Cúel.

Cúel straightened the last of her clothing, which Zevran had so recently mussed. "I doubt you would think anyone worthy of her," she replied and pulled him back into her arms. "Stop watching them, it's rude."

Zevran chuckled and returned his full attention to his beautiful rose. "Perhaps Merrill will grace us with Hawke's aravel, once they depart, yes? My need for privacy is great, and although these trees are lovely, I'm sure, I prefer you in a soft bed." He trailed a finger down her silken cheek, and little wisps of her hair clung to his hand as he did. Was there anything about his love that did not delight him?

"You really intend to stay," replied Cúel, and it was not a question.

"I promised you this before I left, my beautiful rose," he said with soft sincerity. "Whatever the future may bring, we will not be parted."

Cúel kissed him then, and although Zevran was more than ready to repeat their love-making, she pulled back after a brief minute. "I dreamed last night," she said out of nowhere.

"Of what did you dream?" he asked, raining soft kisses across her brow and cheek.

Her smile grew wide and her eyes bright. "I dreamed of Dirthamen," she said. "It is true, our gods have returned to us."

"Of course it is true, I have told you this thing," Zevran replied with a chuckle.

Cúel smiled. "Dirthamen said he had much to teach me, that there are many lost secrets of elvhen magic to be reclaimed by the people."

"This is a wonderful thing, I am certain," Zevran replied, his voice full of pride. "There is no one more worthy of teaching, than you, of this, I am sure."

"Zevran," said Cúel as she threw her arms around his neck. "I don't think I've ever been so happy!"

He wrapped his arms tightly around her and nuzzled her neck. "I couldn't agree with you more," he said. "Only one thing would make me happier still."

Zevran felt her soft breath whisper in his ear. "What might that be?" she asked.

His clever fingers began undoing the ties and buttons so recently re-secured. When his beautiful rose only laughed and began to help him; Zevran knew without doubt, he truly was the luckiest of men.

**FROM THE JOURNAL OF VARRIC TETHRAS**

A long time ago, Hawke tried to explain to me, this happy-sad thing she felt. Something about joy and grief all wrapped up together so tightly, you couldn't tell the difference between the two. I just used to scratch my head, nod and feel confused.

Now, for the first time, I think I understood what she'd meant.

As I watched Hawke, Fenris, elf number two, the broody boy and my sparrow materialize in the center of the circle, I don't think I've had a happier moment in my life. I could have danced - something I never do.

Then, from beside me, I heard Isabela say, 'Where's the pup? Where's Farrell?' In this really distressed kind of way.

He wasn't there.

Hawke's face was red, her eyes swollen, and I realized she'd been crying. She hardly looked at us before she put her arm around Melody and walked away. It was Fenris who told us what had happened, at least the part where Farrell stayed to take his place among the Dalish gods. I don't think I've ever seen Rivaini cry so hard since I've known her - and I've known her a really long time.

The rest of the story has come out as we've been traveling. Right now, we're on the  _Sea Witch_ , heading to Wycome, where we'll catch the barge back to Starkhaven. Elf number two didn't come, he stayed behind with that cute little mage, Cúel. Can't say as I blame him, but I was surprised. From everything I'd learned about our Antivan friend, he wasn't the sort to settle down.

The older I get, the more I learn,  _never assume anything_ \- especially when it comes to matters of the heart.

But I digress.

Somehow our heroes managed to destroy the source of the taint, and restored the Golden City to its rightful place in the Fade. No more Blights, how about that? I know, I can hardly believe it myself, and I love the fantastical and the ridiculous, hehe.

I wonder what the Grey Wardens will do now? What happened to the taint they carried in their blood? And what about all the darkspawn that haunted the Deep Roads? I guess only time will tell, but for now, there are only rumors flying everywhere. When we stopped in Ostwick to drop off Rivaini and Pardus, I even heard that the Legion of the Dead had killed the Architect! Rumors from the north were of a slave rebellion in Minrathous that rivals no other in the history of Thedas. Oh! And get this - I heard from an Ostwick street urchin that the Qunari are amassing a huge fleet to attack Tevinter, knowing that the capital is in chaos! I'm telling you - you can't make this shit up! I'm sure the next thing I hear will be  _mage_  this or  _Templar_  that, hehe.

Enough of the wide world - let's continue on with our own part of this story...

Of particular interest to me, about Hawke's adventures in the Fade was Blondie's story. I think I was the only one who really missed that crazy mage after he was gone. Always had a soft spot for him, and I admit, I liked the coin I'd always win in our weekly card games. What? I've never pretended I don't like coin, now have I?

I've spent a lot of time with my little sparrow, hearing her version of the tale and writing it all down. She's very meticulous that I get all the details right, which is somewhat of a change for her. It was always Farrell who needed everything to be done  _exactly so_. One thing's for certain, Melody really did come to care about Anders. Several times in the telling, she'd tear up and wrapped her arms around me in a hug, like she'd never let go.

I should mention that it has been... odd adjusting to an older little sparrow. What those gods did to her, and why, we still don't know. Yet even though there is still a bit of the little girl about her, especially in her usual impish ways, she has also become quite the young lady - and looks more and more like her mother with each passing day. Lucky girl.

Where was I? Oh yes, Anders. You could have knocked me over with a feather when Melody told me how Anders sacrificed himself to save Fenris. Again, sparrow wasn't sure exactly what had happened, except, there was this really, really bright light, and when it was over, her father was safe, and Anders was gone. The bit about all the souls in the Golden City bowing to them all - well, real tear-jerker stuff, if you know what I mean.

The other night, just before Rivaini and Pardus left us, we were all sitting around on the deck, watching the moonrise over the ocean. There was a salty, warm breeze rippling the sails, and Farrell was the main topic of conversation. Although both Hawke and Melody wiped at their eyes a few times, I think they're both coming to terms with his choice. What surprised me, though was when my sparrow admitted she thought she could hear Farrell whispering to her.

This came as a surprise to Hawke, too - because she jumped up and grabbed her daughter by the shoulders.

"You can hear him?" she nearly pleaded. "What does he say?"

"It's just whispering, Mama," replied Melody in her soft, singing voice. "But I'm trying to hear him, I promise."

Hawke sat down next to sparrow, and Melody laid her head on her mother's shoulder. The two of them there together - it almost looked like they were the twins.

Only person I haven't mentioned is Donnic, I guess. Probably because his part of this story is pretty boring. He just paces the deck all night and day, impatient to get back to Aveline. I think he regrets that he even came with us at all.

Me? I don't regret a thing, except for not getting a chance to say goodbye to Farrell, and maybe missing out on some of the excitement in the Fade. But, you know, I think I'm getting a little too old for that shit.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Hawke and Fenris walked hand in hand to their bedroom in the palace. It had been an exhausting day, filled with both happiness and sadness, as was the usual way with everything in her life, it seemed.

Bethany had taken Farrell's decision very hard, and, if not for her new baby daughter, Hawke thought it might have been much worse. Sebastian and Malcolm were well and happy, although, Malcolm too had been upset to the point of tears that he would not see his cousin again. It was Melody's singing to them all at the end of the evening that seemed to restore everyone's good spirits and bring a measure of peace to the family - all gathered together again at last.

Baby Amelia was a beautiful, happy baby. It had done Hawke a world of good, to sit and rock the new little life. Leandra would have been so proud of her granddaughter, named after the Amell family. Bethany was already fretting that Amelia would end up having magic, but Sebastian's teasing laughter had made Bethany blush and brought a smile again to her lips.

Now, Hawke had to admit to herself, more than anything she was looking forward to some real privacy with her husband.

No sooner was the door closed behind them, than the two were in each other's arms. It had been a long time, much too long, in fact. As they raced to remove clothing - tossed shirts and boots and pants around the room, it reminded Hawke of their days in Kirkwall, when their passion had so frequently overcome them at any time of night or day.

Their  _activities_  had always left her room in chaos - she remembered with a smile.

"Hawke," Fenris growled, and with a swift gesture, pulled at her breast-band. Hawke laughed when she heard the fabric tear. Before long they were in the bed, feasting upon each other, drawing sustenance from each other, giving everything to each other. As their sweat-slicked bodies moved together, Hawke finally began to understand she might get through this newest loss, too. That her fierce warrior seemed capable of healing her heart beyond what she ever could have imagined.

As she drifted off to sleep in his arms, she felt the first true peace since she had left her child in the Fade to join with the Dalish gods.

It wasn't long, before she slipped into a dream…


	34. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

As soon as Hawke saw him, she started to run.

"Farrell!" she called as her feet ran swiftly down the hill to where her son stood on the stone bridge. "Farrell!" she called again. Her heart was pumping hard in her chest, and already she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.

He turned to her - her beautiful golden-haired son - and even with the distance between them, she could see the wide smile that blossomed on his face as he lifted a hand and waved vigorously in her direction.

"Mama!" he called.

It was a collision between mother and son, and both of them staggered as they threw their arms around each other in a tight embrace. At first, Hawke didn't even attempt to speak; it was enough to be holding her own dear child again. No matter that he was as tall as she now. No matter that he had been accepted among the gods. She ran her hands over his hair and down his arms. He was real - so very real.

"It's so good to see you, Mama," said Farrell, and Hawke thought it might have been the most effusive thing she'd ever heard him say.

He studied her intently, as if searching for some clue, some hint to her state of being. "Are you well? How is Papa? "

Caught between laughter and tears, Hawke barely got out the words, "We miss you." She pulled him back against her and clung to him tightly. "We miss you so much."

"I miss you, too," he said softly as he returned her hug. "But at least I know you have each other."

For some reason, his words broke through her last reserves and her tears began to fall in earnest. "Your father..." she began, but could not go on.

"My father," said Farrell with a soft chuckle, "will move the heavens and all of Thedas to keep you well and happy."

Hawke nearly choked on the sob that arose in her throat. "It's true," she said, and took several deep breaths trying to compose herself. There was no way to know how much time they would have together, and she didn't want to waste it in emotional wreckage. Instead, there were things she must say to him while she had the chance. "Your father misses you terribly, but he respects your choice."

"But you don't," Farrell said, and it wasn't a question.

"I... I want to," replied Hawke. "But Farrell, my darling, it's felt much too soon to part with you. You were just a child when you first left me, and now..." Emotion clogged her throat again, and she could not continue.

"And now we are separated until death," Farrell said simply. "But we all will be together again someday, Mama. This I promise you."

"Why..." Hawke began, and swallowed hard to settle herself. "Why have you not asked about your sister?"

Farrell's smile was beatific. "Because I know she is well, I hear her thoughts."

"Do you?" Hawke asked, and a new hope rose in her breast. "She said she hears you whispering. It's true, then?"

Farrell nodded. "So far it's only been a one-way sort of communication, but who knows? Perhaps she will hear me in time."

That thought brought the first true smile to Hawke's lips. To think that at least Melody and Farrell might not be completely separated, made her heart feel glad. "I hope so," she finally said.

"Mama," said Farrell, "You should know that, well, this won't happen very often." His eyes were sad, and looked so much like Fenris' puppy eyes in that moment, the tears threatened again.

"Why?" she asked, nearly pleading. "It's the Fade, isn't it? I dream here..."

"It's not like you think," Farrell said. "It was Mythal who sent me here. Only her or Elgar'nan have the power to do so, and only to this bridge. The gods are in the Fade, but not truly of the Fade." He shook his head in frustration. "It's difficult to explain."

"Why did Mythal send you now?" Hawke asked, not really understanding what he meant.

Farrell smiled again. "Mythal convinced Elgar'nan that keeping us apart would only slow my progress." He laughed. "I think Mythal could convince him of almost anything."

"But you said I would not see you..." Hawke began.

"Rarely, is more like it. It disrupts the whole when one of us leaves, and there is so much to do..."

"Let's not waste time, then," Hawke said. She led Farrell to the edge of the bridge where they sat together with their feet dangling over the water, and their hands clasped tightly. For the rest of the night, as Hawke dreamed, they stayed deep in conversation. There was nothing withheld, everything was shared, from the smallest concerns of their family and friends, to the fate of all the peoples of Thedas.

Finally, when Hawke began to feel the Fade's hold on her begin to slip, she pulled Farrell back into her embrace. "Thank Mythal for me," she told him, then pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Do well, Farrell. We are so proud of you."

"Give my love to Papa and the others," said Farrell. "I will tell my sister, myself."

"I have no doubt that you will," Hawke agreed with a soft smile. She was also crying again, but she didn't care. Farrell knew the deepest places of her heart. "Dareth shiral, ma len."  _Safe journey, my son._

"Dareth shiral, Mama," he replied. "I love you."

"As I love you..." Hawke said, yet even as she did, she felt the tug in the center of herself that let her know she would soon awaken.

The last thing she saw was her son's face, filled with love and sadness, yet also wise and filled with purpose.

It was enough. It would have to be.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

When Melody entered the Golden City, she felt as if she'd truly woken up, instead of falling asleep. The city was alive - filled with vibrant color and sound. Hundreds of voices filled the air with ethereal music as azure and emerald hues danced in patterns along the golden surfaces of the restored city. Everyone was smiling at her, bowing as she passed them by, gesturing with their hands as she proceeded onward through the streets. It was as if she'd been expected, and perhaps that was true. She certainly felt welcomed, to say the least.

Up and up she went, ascending long, curving stairways that wound deeper into the heart of the city. As she passed the turret where they'd destroyed the Source of the Taint, she shivered in remembrance. That moment when she'd thought she'd lost Papa, and then the image of Anders' smoking staff, both combined to create a heavy weight within her chest. As if in response, the music of the city increased in volume, in a seeming attempt to lighten her heart.

Melody had no idea where she was going, but merely followed the gestures of the many joyful people that lined the streets. At last, at the top of a broad set of stone steps, she came to a great domed building, which sat on the highest point of ground, and offered a spectacular view, of the sprawling streets below her. Huge marble columns flanked the entrance of the structure, and along their lengths, effervescent colors in all the shades of a rainbow, sparkled and danced, as if the stone itself were alive. As she passed beneath them, the last of the gloom left her heart, and she was filled with a spirit of such all-encompassing hope, she nearly laughed aloud.

Inside the building, the air itself also seemed alive, as if each breath she took filled her with health and vitality, like she'd never felt before. All of that would have been wonderful enough, but what she saw when she moved through the cavernous room and came to the foot of an immense platform – a set of short steps led up to a grand throne at the top, and her spirits soared to new, unimaginable heights.

"Anders!" she sang at the top of her lungs, and ran as fast as she could to reach him.

He stood from his chair and reached his arms open wide, and the smile on his face was brighter than the Summerday sun. His laughter was like music, and he called her name in a booming voice filled with both mirth and reverence.

"Melody!"

As her feet hit the last step, she threw herself into the air as Mama had taught her, and Anders caught her. They spun round and round together in a dizzying fashion, and their combined laughter blended with the music that filled the air. There was no room for tears when such joy pervaded her entire being; no room for sadness, when she was once again joined with her dear friend.

"I can't believe you're here!" Melody sang to him. They stopped their circling dance and he set her down gently, though he did not release her.

"Where else would I be?" Anders asked, and he laughed again. "I am Steward of the Golden City, at the right hand of the Maker!"

"Oh Anders, I was afraid I'd never see you again," she said softly, and lifted a hand to his cheek.

"Yet from my most amazing vantage, I see you, always." He wriggled his eyebrows and added, "Nice kiss with the grumpy elf."

Melody felt her cheeks heat at the mention of Erynon, but she really didn't mind. A delighted giggle escaped her throat and she said, "It's not nice to spy on people."

"Me? Spy? Never!" he said. "In truth, I can't help it. My position here lends me a portion of the Maker's sight, it seems."

"Is the Maker here?" she asked, and looked around the opulent room.

Anders pursed his lips and his brow lowered.

"There's no real answer to that question." His smile returned, and so did the twinkle in his amber eyes. "Yes and no, how's that?"

"Not satisfying at all," she said and laughed again. "I don't have to ask if you're happy. You practically glow with it."

For the first time since their reunion, his face grew serious. "I never knew true peace until I came here," he told her. "And I never knew that peace was also a joy that cannot be contained."

Melody found her cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so much. "Just what is it you do here?"

"Oh, this and that," he replied. "Mostly I help the recently deceased acclimate into the afterlife." He seemed thoughtful for a moment. "And there's all the joy making and singing to attend to," he added with a wink.

"What of the Dalish gods?" she asked, thinking of Farrell. "Are there two different heavens?"

"Ah, my dearest Melody," he said. "It would take me years to explain all the nuances of the Fade to you. Think of it this way, there are overlaps, places where the realm of the gods and the realm of the Maker's Golden City exist, all at once."

"So, you've seen Farrell?" she asked, holding her breath.

"Seen him? It's not quite like that." He scratched the top of his head, a gesture so familiar to her, she giggled from the delight of it. "I am aware of him, but in some ways, he exists at a higher plane than me." He laughed once more. "You're making my non-corporeal head hurt with your questions."

"I only have one more, if you don't mind," she said to him with a mischievous smile.

"You better hurry then, because you'll be waking up soon," he replied.

"I'm half-elvhen" she explained. "When I die, will I come here to the Golden City, or go to be with Farrell?"

"My darling Melody," replied Anders. "Why would you ever limit yourself that way?"

Before she could ask him to clarify, she felt the familiar tug of wakefulness in the center of herself. She knew she would wake up soon, and there was only one more thing she knew she must tell him.

"I love you Anders!" she said, even as she felt her form dissolving from the Fade.

"And I, you, Melody!" she heard Anders call to her in a merry voice, which held no trace of sadness.

The transition was swift, and she opened her eyes to see her own cozy bedroom in the palace. Across the room, was Farrell's empty bed, and without thinking, she got up and walked across to sit on its edge.

As Melody smoothed her hand over the cold covers, the whispering in her mind began again. It grew louder and louder, and she closed her eyes, doing her best to concentrate, to make out the words she knew her brother was trying to say to her.

And then, it happened. It finally happened.

"Do not worry dear sister," came Farrell's voice clear in her mind. "I'll look after the mage for you."

The tears came then. Joyful tears, because now Melody knew, in the deepest core of her being, that she would never truly be alone.

* * *

 

_Draw your last breath, my friends,_

_Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky._

_Rest at the Maker's right hand,_

_And be Forgiven._

::-::

_Canticles of Trial 1:16_

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I put my heart and soul into writing this story. I hope you enjoyed it!


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